


The Third Rose

by SteadyLittleSoldier



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Armie is problematic, Awkwardness, Closeted Character, Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Dramatic Teenagers, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Football, High School, Injury, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Prom, Slow Burn, Sulking, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-01-30 20:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteadyLittleSoldier/pseuds/SteadyLittleSoldier
Summary: Armie Hammer and Timothée Chalamet have been a couple for a while and everybody in school knows it.But then Armie goes and asks Elizabeth Chambers to prom.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 306
Kudos: 238





	1. this isn't about fucking dancing

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this one for a whiiiiile.  
Too tired to proofread. Apologies in advance for typos and mistakes.

_“Ewww!” _

Timmy looks at the flower thrown over his book - a white rose. The flower is beautiful and he feels a sharp pang in his chest as he does every time he sees a flower being plucked. Giving people flowers is unnecessary and Timmy will write you a thesis on it if you try to argue that it is a romantic and beautiful gesture. There is nothing romantic about hurting plants. The birds and bees and the plants didn’t work so hard and long to make a flower just for your freaking girlfriend or boyfriend. Give your partner a plant instead, dammit!

But that pang is replaced with disgust as soon as he looks up at who has thrown the flowers over his homework.

Ansel.

His roommates. His frenemy. 

Timmy knew this Valentine’s Day would suck - which is why he went to school and got back to the apartment as quickly as he could and started working on his homework, keeping himself busy the whole day - but he didn’t know it would be _this_ bad.

His gaze keeps flipping back and forth from the flowers to Ansel even though he knows the significance of white roses are different than the red ones. Face scrunched up and disbelief in his eyes. Ansel is anything but soft - with Timmy at least. He is usually an asshole with Timmy - always making him realize what a loser he is, making fun of him, oftentimes his jokes go on the verge of being homophobic, and also sexist. His definition of friendship is a lot different than what Timmy grew up learning. Timmy has learned to not waste his breath on him. Is Ansel then trying to repent? On_ Valentine’s _Day?_ Seriously?!_

“Ew…” Timmy says again, cowering away from the flower.

“Dude, chill. Even if I were gay, I wouldn’t even waste a cent on you,” says Ansel, taking off his coat and going into his room. “I would date someone like, like Nick. Someone I could walk with shoulder to shoulder. Equality and all that shit.”

“Then spare me and give this to your boyfriend,” Timmy yells behind him, flicking the flowers away from his books with his pen. “Also, that’s you’re girlfriend’s brother and it’s disgusting.”

Ansel comes to lean against the doorframe, smirking. “You think the flower is from me? How could you think yourself to be so…” he waves his hand, looking for a word. “So… not-a-loser?”

Timmy shakes his head and goes back to his homework.

“If this was the middle ages, you would be a peasant. And peasants and royals don’t mingle.”

“Yeah, but we’re sharing an apartment and it says a lot.” 

Ansel huffs a laugh and lets it go. “This is from that loser boyfriend of yours.”

Timmy falters for a second. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he mutters under his breath.

“Why, did you find a bigger loser? I didn’t know it was possible.”

Timmy finally looks up at Ansel. “He’s the captain of the football team, Ansel. You follow his dumb yelling and bump chest with him and make weird fucking noises like a bunch of fucking brainless trolls.”

“Okay, whoa, hey, sore subject. Point taken.” When Timmy doesn’t reply for a while, Ansel starts, “I thought you broke up with him.”

“That’s none of your business,” he mutters to his maths book.

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Just sort it out among yourselves and leave me alone ‘cause he sent this dumb flower for you and says he will give you the third one when you go down to meet him, and I’m putting my foot down, I can’t be bothered with this bullcrap any longer.”

Timmy scoffs, furious at this point. “Yeah, I’ll go meet him!”

Ansel sighs. “Whatever,” he mutters before turning in for the night.

When he found a white rose in his locker this morning, he realized how dumb it was of him to not change his locker code after the whole thing, because there was only one person who knew the combination beside him. 

He threw the flower straight into the dustbin that stood beside the lockers so if a certain someone came looking or was spying, he could get the message.

Timmy is absolutely done with this shit.

_Fucking three roses… Is he trying to make up a symbol or some shit?_

It doesn’t sound like him. He’s never been sappy. Therein lies Timmy’s issue. You might not be romantic, but there should be a limit to your toxic masculinity and need to prove yourself.

_Fuck! _He flicks the flower off the table. He can no longer concentrate on his homework, so he searches the drawer for his pack before he remembers that he ran out three days ago. He dumps the empty pack into the bin with more force than is necessary.

He is not a regular smoker. He wouldn’t say he is addicted, he can quit whenever he wants, but sometimes it becomes a necessity that he can’t do without. But he also knows he is lying to himself and to his mom who asks him to quit every time she calls. Sometimes he wishes his family hadn’t ditched him in the middle of the term like this and move to France. Now he is left here with fucking Ansel. But at least school is going to be over soon and he can go to France if he wants to. Fuck Julliard. He has nothing to leave behind here. Nothing.

He wraps a thick scarf around his neck and over his mouth, puts on his long coat and hat, and, shoving his hands into his pockets, rushes out of the door to get cigarettes. At the doorstep of the building, however, his way is blocked by a giant figure sitting on the stairs. Timmy knows that back.

“Are you fucking insane?!” Timmy half yells.

The boy looks back from where he is sitting. His teeth clattering. “Hi,” says Armie, his voice shaking from the cold.

Timmy removes his hat and sulkily throws it at him, and receives a smile and a small ‘thanks’ in return. A part of him wants to leave him here and go get what he came out to get. But the poor guy is still shivering. Sighing, Timmy gives him his scarf as well.

“I don’t…” starts Armie. “You’ll–“ 

Timmy shows him the hoodie he is wearing underneath the coat and pulls the hood over his head, finally allowing Armie to take the scarf without feeling guilty. “Are you crazy?” says Timmy, softer this time.

“Yeah, thought you'd come down if I asked. Didn't plan for the alternative.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you say you were waiting?”

Armie frowns. “Ansel didn’t tell you? That asshole!”

“What…?” Timmy remembers their conversation. That motherfucker was probably drunk and didn’t feel the need to specifically tell him that Armie was waiting _downstairs right now. _But then again, Timmy probably wouldn’t believe him if he did. Armie just is not the type to make a gesture or be sappy. “Fuck,” he whispers. “It’s probably my fault. And Ansel’s too. Sorry.”

Armie shakes his head. “It’s fine. I thought you were mad and… I don’t know, punishing me.”

“And you’d be here, taking it like a good boy? You fucking idiot.”

Armie rubs his forehead. “Don’t I deserve it?”

Timmy tuts and looks in the direction of the bodega. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Armie hesitates before he tentatively takes a single red rose in a paper cone out of his bag and offers it to Timmy. Timmy laughs bitterly and puts his hands back into his pockets, turning away, making Armie lower his hand.

“Will you sit down at least?” Armie requests. “For a minutes. Please?”

Exaggerating reluctance, Timmy sits down beside him on the stair and realizes that Armie is still slightly shivering.

“Look, I’m not…” starts Armie, looking at the rose instead of Timmy. “I’m not good at this… dating, talking… feelings, being out…”

This isn’t Armie. The Armie Timmy knows doesn’t talk about _feelings!_ He isn’t this meek. He laughs at Timmy quite cruelly for trying to talk about exactly the things he just mentioned. So, Timmy loses it. “If you're not comfortable being out, why the fuck did you come out?”

“It wasn't really my choice, was it?” There’s a touch of anger in Armie’s voice all of a sudden. “We were a thing and–“

“And then you go and fucking ask Elizabeth Chambers to prom! And I hear it from fucking Ansel. Trying to take pity on me. Do you know how humiliating and hurtful that is?”

“It's not like the whole school knew about us. What is so humiliating about it? And isn't prom and dancing some kinda... kind of like a couple's thing?”

“So what were _we_?!” Timmy’s voice going high.

“I mean like a guy and a girl thing...”

Timmy sighs, closing his eyes. “Armie, this isn't about fucking dancing.”

“No, I realized that. Anyway, I talked to her. She'll find another date.”

“So you're using a girl for you fucking ego? You're pathetic, Hammer.”

“I wasn't... Okay yeah, I was. But I talked to her. Even she understands, why can't you?”

“What do you want me to understand?”

Armie finally looks at him. “That you matter to me, Timotheé.”

If Timmy wasn’t so pissed and Armie wasn’t such an asshole, Timmy would like to kiss him. _No, that beautiful face of his deserves to be slapped._

“Look, I’m gonna… My dad doesn't give a shit about who I sleep with. Most of the time he isn't home. My mom though.... she doesn't look at me the same anymore. My brother… I feel... I dunno, I feel kinda ashamed somehow. And I thought I had an advantage, right? I like girls too. So if I find a girlfriend, maybe it will give my mom some sort of relief.”

Timmy nods. “I understand. Or I try to. I never had to face any of it. But that’s why it’s important to talk.”

“You're lucky. I wish you were a girl, Timmy.”

Timmy shakes his head. He has tried to understand this fucking asshole. “Do you realize how fucked up that is.”

“Nn–“ Armie looks up at him, surprised. He searches Timmy’s eyes with slight fear in his own. When he doesn’t get his answer he realizes that he has said something wrong again but fails to realize what it is. “Timmy you have to consider... I'm not like you, I–“

“Why the fuck should I compromise? Who are you to me?”

Armie raises his hands in surrender. “I am not asking you to compromise, just... teach me. I wasn't brought up like you were. Teach me what's right and wrong. I wanna be more like you: open, free, proud, not having anxieties.”

“Fuck you, you don't know me.”

“No, maybe I don't. But you're perfect. I know you are. Doesn't matter how many issues you have. You'll always be perfect and a badass to me. So just teach me how not to be a pathetic loser.”

Timmy’s eyes soften. “You're not a loser, Armie. You just have to stop giving a shit about what other people expect of you.”

Armie nods. Then a smile appears on those full lips that Timmy so loves. “I gonna try for Columbia.”

“And you’re gonna get in.” He takes a pause. “I’m probably going to France. Or Julliard if I get in. I haven’t decided yet. But we have time I guess.”

“Tons.” Armie chuckles. “Why are people already going crazy about prom again?”

“You should know.”

“I was told to secure the prettiest girl as soon as possible…” When Timmy throws him a glace, he says, “And I am sorry for my actions.”

“Why are you here Armie?” Timmy asks seriously.

Armie offers him the flower again. Timmy takes it and immediately throws it on the ground. Sighing, Armie picks it up, dusts off. "I want to go to prom with you."

“Won't you be embarrassed dancing with a twink?”

“No, I want to show you off. You look so fucking gorgeous in suits.”

Closing his eyes, Timmy shakes his head. “That is so– fuck, I'll let that one go.”

“I better go or I'll turn into an icicle.” He takes a deep breath and stands up, taking off the hat and the scarf. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. It’s okay. I just wanted to make the most of the time we have left before we leave for college. You are special. And I didn't wanna give up on this. But I made a mess of everything. Goodnight, Timmy.” With a nod and a sad smile, Armie starts walking away with the rose in his hand.

Timmy feels a pang in his chest. Watching him walk away doesn’t feel right somehow. Armie is problematic, he needs guidance and he has asked for it. But he is able to realize it. Look at where he is now compared to the asshole football player Timmy had a small crush on. That, plus that fact that Timmy fucking adores the guy – with his issues and everything – as Armie has said.

Timmy lets him go a couple of paces before he decides. “Hey, idiot.” Armie turns around. “Come up.”

Armie is taken aback but recovers quickly. “No, it's fine, I can go home.”

“It wasn't a request.”

Armie smiles with relief and walks back to him. “I’ll have to text my mom,” he mumbles.

Timmy takes the dumb rose from him and shuts him up with a kiss.


	2. thought you’d like it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who can't leave a oneshot alone

_4 months ago_

Timmy wishes he had the ability to slap people. You would think it comes naturally, as a reflex. Not to Timothée Chalamet – the meek, geeky French dude who has been brought up to always be kind to people, always think before he acts. His reflex is to hug people when they seem sad, overwhelmed or happy. But he could really use the ability to slap right now. Or maybe punching. But he is quite sure he is going to hit this guy in an awkward way and not hard enough, so he will end up laughing at him and saying something like ‘you even punch like a sissy, Chalamet.’ Maybe Paulin can help him with his punching/slapping skills. She tells the story of punching her ex with pride to anyone who hasn’t heard it already. But for now, placing his hands on his chest, Timmy decides on pushing the giant away. “What the fuck!” he yells. It does nothing to move the guy but he gets the sign, so he takes a step back. But the motherfucker is still grinning. “Do you have any idea what consent means?!”

“Isn’t that like… for chicks?”

“What?! No! You think gay guys are always asking for it?”

The grin retraces. “No… of course, not.” But it sounds like a question.

“I’m going to report you.”

The guy’s face falls. “What…?”

Without answering him, Timmy shoves past him. But the giant has the audacity to hold him by his elbow, stopping him from behind.

“No, wait, my mom’s gonna kill me. I can–“

It’s now or never. Timmy takes a deep breath and turns around, swinging his fist. It lands on the boy’s nose. As he predicted, it wasn’t hard enough, but the boy lets go of his hand and that’s good enough for now.

His pinches the bridge of his nose. “What the hell was that for?” Mildly irritated, but not hurt.

“You fucking forced yourself on me!”

“You’re exaggerating. I like you, is that a crime?”

Timmy is a little taken aback. He stares at the guy standing in front of him, good seven inches taller than him and double in width. Armie fucking Hammer. Captain of the stupid football team. Descendant of the fucking founder of Occidental Petroleum. Pea brain but a favorite of all the teachers. Dating the head cheerleader, Edith Jenkins – possible future prom king and queen. He is the very definition of the rich straight white man who is now confessing his love for Timothée Chalamet - the guy who was _never_ really in the closet. Okay, maybe not _love_ exactly. But in high school, telling someone all of a sudden that you like him is kind of a big deal. Especially if the whole school knows that you are as straight as it gets.

“I heard you broke up with Simon,” says Armie. “I thought… thought you’d like it.”

“Because I’m gay?” Timmy says, incredulous. “Why’d make it sound like you’re doing me a favor?”

“It’s not like I was planning on it or something.”

“Well, if you did, that tiny brain that you have would probably advise against it. I feel fucking violated.”

Armie keeps looking at him, pinching his nose still, thinking – for a change – if he should ask this or not. “So you don’t… you don’t like me?”

Timmy chuckles cruelly. “We’ve never even talked to each other before, Hammer!” he says loudly. “And you thought it was okay to do what you just did! And don’t you have a girlfriend?” He shakes his head. “Fuck this. I’m going to the principal’s office.” Timmy marches out of the room, leaving Armie behind.

Truth be told, Timmy had nothing against him; he didn’t hate him. But that was until now. He knew Armie was quite stupid but he didn’t know he was this dumb. He thinks he can do whatever he wants and get away with it just because he is popular. Timmy is a tolerant person, but the one thing he cannot stand is hierarchy and injustice in any form. Timmy rubs his lips on his sleeve and his eyes redden.

Two years ago, when he first come to this school, he, too, was mesmerized by Hammer’s good looks. It was as if he had walked right out of either an Abercrombie poster or one of those paintings of the half-naked Greek gods. He was the best in the football team and that was saying something as the whole team was pretty good. The fifteen-year-old Timmy spent many nights jerking off to his Instagram posts back then. But that infatuation quickly passed when he heard him talk to his teammates. He was abrasive, on the verge of being a bully, and a total moron. All his charms and good looks meant nothing after that.

When he reaches the principal’s office, he finds it empty. Spotting the assistant principal, he asks where she has gone.

“She took off early today. She has a dental appointment or something,” he says.

The world is out to get him today. He stomps out and waits for his mom’s car. And his mom had to be late today of all days. Just great! He sits down on the steps and waits, pulls out his phone. There’s a text. It just says ‘Sorry’ from an unknown number. How the fuck does this creep has his number? He deletes the text and removes his sim card. Turns his data off and shoves the phone roughly into his backpack as his eyes start to sting. He rubs his lips again so harshly that he is sure they’re gonna bleed in a minute.

By the time his mom gets here and Timmy gets into the car, Timmy’s cheeks are streaked with tears.

“Aw, honey, what happened?” coos Nicol, patting his head the way only she can.

Timmy doesn’t answer and looks out of the window, remaining that way for the rest of the ride as he hears Nicole sigh and say, “talk to me when you’re ready to, okay?”

Of course, he is not ready even the next day. He avoids Hammer as much as he can. He sees him approaching him, and skips into the girls’ bathroom. In his free period, he goes to the principal’s office again to find it empty. The assistant principal looks at him worriedly. “Is there something wrong, Timothée? If it’s urgent, you can tell me.”

The thing is, Timmy has to have everything planned. And he planned this as well. He planned to talk to the principal, not to the assistant. He has had it all planned out – a specific set of dialogue, an answer to every question he might possibly be asked. Now that the person he was supposed to talk to has switched, he panics and leaves the room.

Paulin knocks at his door that night after dinner. Timmy has been quiet for two days. And at the dinner table, his father asked him the kind of trick questions that assured him that his mom has told him everything about him crying in the car. So of course, it was his mom who sent Paulin to his room.

“Hey, baby brother,” she says opening the door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” says he from under the blanket. He pauses the movie he was watching and sits up.

She sits beside him and tousles his hair. “What’s going on, Timbo?”

“Just watching Transformers again.”

“Cool,” she nods. “But you know that’s not what I mean.”

He places his laptop on his lap and starts the movie so he does not have to make eye contact. “Mom sent you.” It isn’t a question.

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset, I’m angry.”

“And?”

“And a little bit upset.”

“You know if someone’s bullying you, you don’t have to fight them alone. You can tell mom and dad. They’ll talk to your principal and it’ll be over. It’s that easy. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Nobody’s bullying me, Pauline. Someone…” he takes a deep breath. About time he told somebody. “Someone kissed me.”

“Shut up!” she says excitedly. “Who is it?”

“I didn’t want them to kiss me.”

“Hey, look at me.” Pauline frowns and caresses his neck. “Did they force themselves on you?”

“I don’t know… he,” he breathes out. “He just kissed me. All of a sudden. We ran into each other and he asked stuff about the Spanish assignment before he just leaned down and kissed me before I understood what was happening.”

“Did he shove you or grab you?”

“No, it was just a… like, almost an innocent kiss. His hands weren’t anywhere near my body. But I _didn’t_ ask for it. He kissed me without my permission.”

“Who was it?”

“This kid, Armie Hammer.”

“Did he say or indicated in any way that he did it to hurt you in some way or make fun of you ‘cause you’re out?”

“No, he actually… he said he liked me.”

“Do you like him back?”

“No!”

Paulin nods and thinks for a second. “You should tell mom and dad. I’ll tell them for you if you want. Your principal should know about this.”

“I’ve been trying to, but she’s on leave.”

“The guy’s parents should know too.”

“I don’t know, Paulin… he looked scared. Kept saying that his parents are gonna kill him.”

“Well, he should have thought of that before he kissed you.”

“Right…” Timmy looks away thoughtfully. “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think this part isn't really working, please let me know and I'll delete this chapter.


	3. so fucking dramatic

“Ma’am?” Timmy knocked on the glass door and peeked inside.

Principal Lawton looked up from her computer. “Ah, Timothée. Come in. Heard you were looking for me. Sorry, root canal,” says she, cupping her jaw and smiling.

“That’s alright. Do you have time now?”

“Of course. Sit down, please.” She looks at Timmy expectantly, crossing her fingers and resting her chin on them. “In your own time,” she says kindly when Timmy sits down but struggles to speak.

Timmy nods. “The… Um, there’s a boy in my class. He, um… he found me the other day, alone, and… and he kissed me.”

Lawton thinks for a second. “You are saying that he forced you?”

“Um… no, not really. I just didn’t want him to kiss me.”

She hums. “And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know…” he looks at his lap. “I felt angry. Violated.”

"Do you feel this way because it was a boy?"

"No... I don't know..."

“Do you want to go to our counselor? I’m sure Mr. Groff will be able to help.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Truth be told, Timmy is no longer angry. He doesn’t know why he is in the principal’s office now. Just because it was in his schedule? Because he thought this should be known? What does he want from this exactly? Perhaps he is making it a bigger deal than it is? Timmy is confused right now, that’s what it is, and he wants to leave the room.

“Can you tell me who it was, Timothée, so I can help you?”

“Hammer.”

“Armand Hammer?” she says, incredulous.

Timmy nods.

“That's disappointing," she says under her breath. "I want you to know that this is a very serious matter. These sorts of behaviors can't be tolerated. No one should feel unsafe in school."

"I don't really feel unsafe, I just thought... Well, it wasn't a bad idea to come to you, right?"

"Of course, not, Timothée. Don't ever hesitate to come to me. I’ll call his parents and I will arrange a meeting.”

“Can I please… ma’am can I ask you not to call his parents? Handle this between us?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“I'm not sure I can do that. His parents should be aware of this,” she sighs. “But he is a good kid, as far as I know. I'm friends with his parents. And as you request, I will talk to Arman alone tomorrow. And if I sense that his parents need to be involved, then I will have to call them. You may have to come to the office again. Is that alright?”

* * *

He has been seeing Armie here and there, but he hasn’t tried to corner him or talk to him again. It is not that his huge form frightens him. It did, after he kissed him, and the next day. But not now, after the weekend. He knows Armie won’t try to do anything like that again. Not that he is scared, but simply because he wouldn’t.  
But between avoiding eye contact with Simon and trying not to run into Armie, it is a lot of work.

When he is descending the stairs to get into the car, he sees Armie sitting on the last stair. Timmy’s heartbeat speeds up. He is not fond of confrontations. But his mom is here, she can get rid of Armie if he wants her to, right? Timmy walks past him, pretending to not hear when Armie stands up and calls him, and gets into the car. The guy has the audacity to knock on the window and Timmy’s mother amazes him by actually rolling it down for him. She knows exactly who Armie is. Timmy has told his parents and his dad was furious, wanted to go to the principal or call Armie’s parents right that instance, called him a potential sex offender. His mom agreed. But why his mom feels the need to always be polite to everyone, he doesn’t know.

Armie has to almost double over to face Nicole through the window. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Chalamet, but can I talk to Timmy? I won't be long.”

Timmy wonders if she is going to correct him like she always does; 'it's not Chalamet, it's Flender.' But she doesn't. She looks at Timmy who is finding the dashboard to be very interesting at the moment and hesitantly says, “sure.”

“Would you please come out for a second?” he says to Timmy.

“No,” replies Timmy sternly.

“It’s fine,” says Nicole to Armie. “You can talk to him here.”

Armie bends awkwardly and sighs. “Look, I know saying sorry doesn’t cut it. But… I don’t know…”

Timmy looks up at his face. Armie looks confused. There’s a silent sadness in his eyes, they are calm but panicky somehow. Scared. A cornered animal who is screaming on the inside but knows help will not come. Armie looks down, shakes his head, and stands up, ready to give up.

“Fuck,” Timmy whispers and gets out of the car. Nicole does the same and stands by the driver’s side to keep an eye on him should he need her. Timmy hugs himself, facing Armie who takes a step back, putting his hands into his stupid football jacket. “Speak.”

“You know that I am sorry,” he says as though he has been rehearsing the lines for days. “But you have to know that I did not mean to hurt you. I’m just an idiot who thought if I liked someone, it’s totally fine to kiss them without their permission. I just acted on impulse and I understand now that that was wrong of me to do. But if you still feel violated, as you said, you can go to the principal, you can call my parents, you can warn everyone about me. I’m not saying I don’t care. But if you do, it would be right of you to do so and I don’t have the right to mind because I deserve that. From your perspective, I’m totally a creep and I am disgusting. So, I’m sorry. I hope you don’t ever have to speak to me again.” He turns to Nicole. “Sorry for making you wait, Mrs. Chalamet.

Timmy listens silently. Apparently, he doesn’t yet know that Timmy has already been to the principal. Timmy rolls his eyes. “So fucking dramatic,” he says under his breath and gets into the car.”

That week, Timmy doesn’t see Armie very often. At the cafeteria, Saoirse asks who he's looking for. Of course, he doesn't say. She and her "not girlfriend" Florence are his dear friends but he is tired of telling the same story. And it all somehow feels wrong. Timmy checks the table where the whole football team usually sits. Armie is not there.

By Wednesday, everyone knows why Armie has been suspended. Everyone knows Armie is gay. A group of girls even ask him about it. They are not nasty about it, just curious. Someone tells him how brave he is to report him, that it was the right thing to do.

The next week though, Armie is there, looking gaunt, sitting at the back of the class, not wearing his football jacket for the first time in his high school life.


	4. god, that’s pathetic

As much as Timmy hates to admit it, he has grown up with Ansel always around. Their moms are best friends who have always lived within walking distance. So it’s not really surprising when Ansel bursts into his room that weekend without knocking and Timmy greets him with “what if I was jerking off?”

“Then I’d help you,” says Ansel, wiggling his eyebrows. "You'd like that, admit it."

“Urgh.” Timmy sits up and puts away the novel he was reading.

“Can’t believe you’re actually reading this. I’ve read stuff on Cliffs Notes and it seemed boring as fuck. I mean do you really need five hundred pages to say that a big ass white whale is God?”

“What?"

"Forget that. What did you do to Hammer?” Ansel comes to sit at the foot of the bed.

“Is your mom here?”

“Downstairs.”

“How did she take it, you moving out?”

“You know her. She’s pretty chill.”

“Spending the weekend with them still is, what, compensation for moving out too early?”

“Shut up, I’m eighteen."

"You know she offered me to move in with you when my parents leave for France?"

"My mom did?"

"Yeah."

"Shit, shouldn't she ask me first?"

"Don't worry, I told her no. Dad's gonna find something."

"Weird guy like you, your parents are never gonna let you live alone. If you're not careful, you're gonna end up with a relative."

Timmy shrugs. "Could be worse. Like living with you."

Ansel laughs. "Come on, Timbo, you can stay with me," he says, ruffling his hair. "As long as mom's paying the rent."

"Get off!"

"Don’t try to dodge the question, why did you rat him out to Lawton?”

Timmy sighs. “That’s none of your business, is it?”

Ansel looks at him for a while. “You know he got kicked out of the team, right?”

“I figured.”

“So how is that not my business? Coach made me captain and I don’t know shit about it.”

Timmy knew this conversation was due when he saw Armie still hanging out with the team. Nick, who is also on the team, is his best friend. So even if the team didn’t want Armie there, Nick wouldn’t let that happen. At first, Timmy was relived and felt less guilty to see that his friends hadn’t abandoned him over this. Then he realized that the whole of the team now probably hates him and might try to show that. So far, nobody has been nasty to him. But he did overhear some people talking about “that creep, Hammer.”

“How did everyone know about this?”

Ansel chuckled. “Are you kidding me? His parents were called to Lawton’s office. Everybody saw it. And then fucking Edith made a scene and dumped him, _and_ possibly told everyone he’s gay.”

“But I asked Lawton not to call his parents…”

Ansel frowns. “Why?”

“I didn’t want to out him to anyone, because I can understand how hard that can be.”

“It’s worse in his case.”

"Why 'cause he's popular?" Timmy says rolling his eyes.

"No. Because he's not even gay."

“Wait, what?”

“Well, he has this reputation now, no girl would want to date him.”

“No, I mean… you said he’s not gay.”

“He’s not.”

_But he said he likes me _– Timmy wanted to say. But he doesn’t. “What makes you think so?”

“Um, ‘cause he said so.”

“He said that?”

“Yeah,” Ansel shrugs. “I mean he’s had girlfriends that he went pretty deep with. Why would he turn gay all of a sudden?”

God, that’s pathetic. Timmy doesn’t like what that implies. Armie is the type who brags in the locker room about what girls let him do to them? Doesn’t that mean he’s told the whole team about what he did to Timmy? And then lie about his sexuality?

“What the fuck did he say about me?” says Timmy.

“Only that you reported him to the principal.”

“Why is he whining when _he’s_ the one who kissed _me_?!”

“It was probably just a joke,” Ansel shrugged.

“Haha, how funny, let’s all assault the weird gay kid. Hilarious! Get out of my room!”

“Hey, okay… Jesus, fuck,” says Ansel, raising his hands in surrender and leaving the room.

How dare he? How fucking dare he? That fucking idiot thought he is better than him? He not only assaulted him, he lied to him, he let Timmy think he genuinely liked him, tried to make fun of him? And here Timmy was feeling guilty for reporting. Timmy yells and throws a cushion at the closed door as his eyes water. He stomps downstairs. His mom and Grethe are at the dining table, talking over glasses of wine, while Ansel in on the sofa, crouching over his phone. “I want him out of the house,” he Timmy to his mom, his lips curling, pointing where Ansel is sitting.

“Timmy!” his mother scolded and Grethe called for Ansel.

“Ansel, what did you do this time?” says she, knowing that his son has always been the one to blame.

“I didn’t do anything!” says Ansel. “Is it my fault he can’t take the truth?”

“You and your fucking brainless friends are making fun of me and I am supposed to be okay with that?!”

“I’m not involved in any of this, mom, I swear!” he says to his mom when her eyes go round.

“Ansel, I did not raise you like this.”

Then he gets some more scolding for not defending Timmy and being friends with people who look down upon others. But Timmy isn’t there for it. When his mom wipes his tears and tries to pull him in for a hug, he bolts upstairs.

To top all this, Timmy runs into Simon, his ex in the library where he was hiding that Monday. What has he ever done to anyone? – thought Timmy. Why is the universe punishing him?

“Heard what happened,” says Simon. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” he says, curt.

“Look, I understand - I never wanted to speak to you again either, okay? But… if those assholes come near you again, you call me, okay?”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Simon, thank you. And I’ve deleted your number, so...” He shoves past him to get to the biology section.

Thank God, Saoirse and Florence exist in his life. At first, they were confused. Why didn’t Timmy tell them? Is he okay? Yes. He doesn’t wanna talk about it. And that was that for them. Timmy can sense that they are trying to distract him as much as they can. They have sleepovers, watch movies, do group study over the weekend. It works for a while. Until a woman, who is very evidently pissed, finds him in the parking lot.

She marches towards Nicole’s car and stops Timmy before he can get into the car. “Are you that Chalamet kid?”

It catches him off guard and his panic switch turns on, it screams that it hates unprepared conversations with adults. Especially an angry one. “… I’m Timothée Chalamet… yes.”

“I don’t know what you have against my son or why he is going along with it, but if you don’t confess to the principal and make it right...” she says sternly and stands tall. "I'll make sure that you do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if this is getting boring because, as much fun as I am having writing this, I feel like it might not be as exciting to read.


	5. you’re making zero sense

Timmy froze, as he usually does in front of adults. It was Nicole who spoke up. Apparently, Dru Hammer was under the impression that Timmy had made up the whole story because he had some sort of a grudge against Armie and was now out to ruin his life by telling everyone that he was gay. Timmy was also informed that football was Armie’s “only hope”.

Timmy understood her trying to avenge her son, telling Timmy off for having “the audacity to blame him for something so disgusting”, being a homophobe, but what he couldn’t grasp was how a mother could have such little hope for her own son. A golden boy at that.

By the time Nicole and Dru were into a deep argument, Armie had found them. He ran towards them with panicky eyes, trying to stop his mother, begging her “mom, please, let’s go.”

The people around tried not to seem as interested as Timmy was sure they were. He was also certain that someone had taken a decent video as well.

Dru was confident that his son was being threatened in some way and that "he doesn’t go around kissing boys!"

“I did, mom. I kissed him. Without asking him first,” he’d confessed in front of them.

But Dru would not stand down. “What does this boy have against you? Tell me.”

“He doesn’t have anything on me, mom… Look at him, he’s shaking.”

That was when Timmy realized that he actually was shaking. Seeing his condition, Nicole wanted to end this drama and laid it out plain for Armie and his mother, saying that his mother was finding it hard to accept his sexuality and it seemed like a family issue so maybe they should solve it among themselves and leave Timmy out of this. Their answer came in unison. “I’m not gay,” he said while his mother said, “he’s not gay.”

* * *

Timmy is still pale when his mother turns off the engine. Nicole brushes his hair. “Don’t mind that woman. She’s just scared. So is that boy.”

Timmy stays silent for a while. No, not just scared. They are disgusted. “It was a mistake.”

“What was?”

“Telling the principal. If I had kept quiet like any other bullied kid, all this wouldn’t have happened. I’d probably even forgotten about it by now.”

“Timmy, look at me,” says Nicole. “Never apologize for standing up for something.”

“I want to leave this school. Mom, please, don’t make me go there tomorrow. I wanna switch. Take me to France with you. Mom, please…”

Nicole thinks for a moment. “Why don’t you take the week off? I’ll email your teachers. And then see how you feel about it.”

The thing is, a week is a lot when you don’t have to constantly bump into people who have made your life a living hell, whose faces you never wanna see again, who you know are judging you, for being gay, for being out, for telling, for ruining another’s rep, for being such a whiny bitch. A week away makes them seem weak, almost non-existent, as though they don’t matter. So why would he move to fucking France for those who are busy with this drama just cause they have nothing better to do and will forget about it the second they find something new.

It’s fall and Timmy would never choose being out over being under the covers with a book or his laptop. But with his parents at work and Pauline enjoying her last few days with her friends here, the house already feels empty. Timmy isn’t sure he will be able to survive the rest of high school without his family around. Being alone now, he feels as though they’ve already left.

So he calls Saoirse. At least he has his two closest friends still. They want to meet for coffee after school. _Sweet!_ He wraps a woolly scarf around his neck and decides to walk to their favorite café, get some fresh air and put in some exercise – lying all day in one fashion has made his joints feel rusty.

Saoirse and Florence are already sitting outside, a shawl wrapped around both of their shoulders, laughing over something in Florence’s phone. They wave excitedly once they spot him and stand up to give Timmy big warm hugs. “We missed you so much!” says Florence.

“I miss you too… when you aren’t constantly texting me that is.” Timmy scrunched up his nose, smiling. “Seriously, guys, when are you gonna be honest with me about this?”

“What this?”

“You two,” says Timmy pointing at them.

“Shut up and get us a brownie,” says Saoirse, chuckling and throwing a balled-up napkin at him.

“_A_ brownie… okay.” Timmy gets inside the café to order a brownie and a coffee for himself. But as soon as he opens the door, he sees a sight he never wants to see again. Armie Hammer sweeping the floor where someone has accidentally spilled coffee. “Oh, fuck…” he says under his breath and bolts out of the door. “We need to leave. Let’s go to that bagel place we went to last week,” he tells his friends.

“But I like the brownie here,” Florence whines. “What’s wrong with this place?” 

“Please, just– can we please leave?”

“Timmy, what’s wrong?”

“Look…” Timmy sighs. “Hammer works here.”

“What?!” Saoirse laughed. “Are you serious?” They both try to peer inside. When they recover from their fit of laughter, Saoirse offers, “okay, how about you two wait here? I’ll get the brownie real quick and then we can leave.”

Timmy throws his hands up, rolling his eyes. “I need a smoke.” He finds the smoking zone and lights the last cigarette he has managed to hide from his mom. What he failed to notice is that the backdoor of the café leads out to the smoking area. He doesn’t know if it was planned, that if he somehow saw Timmy out here and decided to burst in on him with a bin in his hands. Armie hesitates for a second, staring at him before he goes to put the bin bag into the can. Timmy turns around, pretends he hasn’t seen him. He doesn’t want to put out the cigarette and waste it. Smoking is a luxury for him. He just wants Armie to do his work and get back inside.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” says Armie tentatively.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell my mom. Or yours,” he says without turning around.

“Yeah… I’m sorry… for what she did. I had no idea she was gonna come to school.”

"What are you doing here?"

"Working."

"Isn't your dad like... loaded?" Timmy finally turns around.

Armie chuckles. "Yeah. But I don't get pocket money anymore. For lunch and stuff, " Armie shrugs. "And bus fare."

"Don't you have a car?"

"Mom took the keys."

"Because..."

"Yes, because."

Timmys hums. “Why did you lie to your mom? And this is not… I’m curious. I wanna know ‘cause I’m confused. I don’t understand you.”

Armie looks down, the bin still in his hand. “I didn’t lie.”

“You said you’re not gay.”

“Because I’m not.”

“So you did do it to make fun of me.”

Armie frowns. “What? No, Timmy. I’d never…”

“You know you’re making zero sense. So, either you’re lying to your mom, to me, or you’re in denial, or you're just stupid.”

Armie shrugs defeated. “I don’t know why you’re accusing me of lying.”

“You kissed me. You said you liked me. You’re saying you didn’t do it to bully me. And now you’re saying you’re not gay.”

“I’m not gay just because I said liked you.”

Timmy laughs bitterly. “You do know I’m a guy, right?”

Armie just keeps staring at him blankly. “Why are you making fun of me? Why are you implying that you know what _I am_ and I don’t? I don’t want to be rude, but you don’t know me, Timmy. Do you have any idea what my life is like? How tough it has been since they kicked me out of the team? I wanted to go to college without my dad having to call the dean. I can’t now. My mom won’t even look at me. My girlfriend dumped me and spread rumors about me. People are sneering at me in the hallways. People are slipping notes into my locker, calling me a creep. You think it’s been easy for me just ‘cause I’ve bowed my head and taken the punishment for the one mistake I’ve made. You are the victim and that makes me the villain. I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong. And I’m not complaining because I know that I deserve all this, at least for my naivete. But please Timmy, don’t make this harder for me than it already is. I don’t want to become a bitter person like my dad.” Armie stops and sighs. “I’m gonna… go back inside, I have work…” He turns around to head back inside, but stops when Timmy starts to talk.

“I’ll talk to the principal,” he says hesitantly. “I don’t know if she’ll listen to me, but I’ll try. You should be back in the team. It’s getting out of hand. And probably I am responsible for blowing this out of proportion but I don’t know… And I don’t wanna think about it either. I’m tired of this drama and I want it to end.”

Armie keeps looking at him, dumbfounded. “Thank you.” Turns out the boy isn’t as brainless as Timmy thought he was; he’s just learned to hide things from people.

“If it’s any consolation, I get messages too. ‘Twink’, ‘prude’, 'you ruined his life'… all sorts of fun things. And me not going to school just made it worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. Also, if you want… if you want help with homework or tests and stuff, I’ll… I can help.” Timmy shrugs.

Armie smiles softly. “And you can tell me if you want me to punch someone.”

Timmy chuckles. “Will do. And Armie… if it’s– We should, maybe…” he rubs his mouth and looks anywhere but Armie. “Maybe we can hang out sometimes at school? If people see we’re friends, maybe they’ll stop.”

A grin spreads across Armie’s face. “Yeah, sure, that’s… that’s chill. We should totally do that.”

Timmy is pretty sure he sees Armie blushing before he looks down and quickly says, “see you Monday,” and gets inside.


	6. Is he bothering you again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus, that's if anyone was waiting, which nobody was, but here, take this chapter anyway.  
Will be getting on with the actual plot from the next chapter. Probably.

The next week, as Timmy meekly walks into school, afraid to be the subject of more snide comments, Armie finds him. Armie would like to say he wasn’t exactly looking for him, but then he would be lying. He has been sort of avoiding all his red-jacked friends. Being the only one not wearing that jacket anymore still felt weird. And Timmy wanted them to be friends, right? He is pretty sure Timmy had used the word ‘friends’. And friends hang out.

He takes note not to call him from behind. Timmy wouldn’t like the attention. So Armie quietly falls into step beside him. It takes Timmy ten solid seconds to notice that someone is purposefully walking beside him. He looks up with those permanently-doleful eyes and Armie smiles nervously. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” says Timmy, removing his headphones.

When it becomes evident that they have nothing to talk about, Armie starts to scramble for things to say. “So, what do you have now?”

“Um, biology,” says Timmy, the word ‘obviously’ remaining unsaid. “Same as you.”

“Right, yeah, of course. Just making conversation…”

Timmy seems to open up a bit. He chuckles. “Well, you’re not very good at ‘making conversation’.”

Armie doesn’t think so. He’s never been accused of being bad at small talk. He is popular even with the parents. Even he isn’t sure why he’s being weird now. Maybe because even two days ago he was feeling as though he had lost everything. That pain now seems dull somehow. So he just smiles in answer.

Timmy stops before his locker. “I’m gonna talk to Lawton during free period okay. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”

Shit, he hasn’t really thought about it. Wasn’t it the primary outcome of the conversation they had at the café, that Timmy was going to try to get him back on the team? Wasn’t he supposed to look forward to and praying for _this_? How did it slip his mind? Armie thought for a bit, looking for the right answer. “You should tell her what you feel like telling her. I mean, I did do what I was accused of doing. There’s nothing much I can add.”

Timmy sighs. His face hidden from view by the door of the locker. “Look, what happened… happened. I’ve decided to leave this behind us, for… for whatever reason. There’s no point in holding grudges. And I don’t want to keep remembering it. Because my conscience says it was right of me to speak up but it also says that I should let it go. I am so fucking confused. So please don’t keep reminding me of it.”

Armie falls quiet. He’s done it again. This is not a subject he can just talk casually about just because Timmy has allowed him to try to be friends. He understands this. This is not a light subject. But why does it hurt to be told off by him? “Yeah… yeah, I’m sorry, sure, I mean...” He sighs. “Timmy, you know how sorry I am, right? For everything.”

Timmy closes the locker door and faces him. Those sad eyes look sadder. He opens his mouth to say something when–

“What the fuck?”

Timmy turns to see his asshole ex-boyfriend.

“Is he bothering you again?” says Simon, eyeing Armie.

Timmy frown. “No.”

“What are you doing with him?”

“I didn’t know I was bound to explain my every action to you.”

Simon looks at Armie again and then back at Timmy. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m really not,” Timmy interrupts. “Fucking bold of you to think you have some sort of authority over me.”

Simon laughs bitterly as though he hasn’t heard what Timmy’s just said. “God, you must be joking. You two are a thing now? Is that it? Is that what’s going on? Are you out of your mind, Timmy?”

Armie is dumbfounded, so is Timmy. The taller quickly shakes his head but Timmy promptly recovers. He takes Armie’s wrist and tugs. “Come on, babe, we’re late for class,” he says and walks down the corridor without looking behind.

By the time they enter their classroom, they gasp for breath. Engrossed in their shared joke, they don’t notice or care as their classmates see them whispering and laughing together.

The teacher isn’t there yet. Finding parallel seats for themselves seems more natural now then it would have been even fifteen minutes ago.

“Why is he so pissed?” says Armie, when they recover. “Is he still in love with you or something?”

“Ha. He was never in love with me,” says Timmy humorlessly.

“Is that why you dumped him?”

“I didn’t dump him.”

Armie is confused. “_He_ dumped you and now he’s jealous?”

Timmy shrugs.

“But, why?”

“Not everything is just black and white, you know.” Timmy sighs. All the traces of the laughter before vanishes. “He dumped me after I refused to suck him off."

Armie’s gaze automatically drops from Timmy’s eyes to his lips. For a moment, he’s lost. But then he sees Timmy frowning at him. “Oh, sorry, yeah, that’s awful. I’m sorry. That's awful.” They fall silent again. But Armie needs to know. “So… you’ve never given a blowjob?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Timmy snorts. “Is that a compulsory skill to have on your résumé?”

Armie arches his brows, attempts to be coy. “Have you received one?”

“You think I’m a prude, don’t you?”

“Well… you did punch me for kissing you.”

“I told you not to mention it again,” he says, but the smile slips between the lines. “And I’m not a prude!"

Armie smirks, shrugging. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You know, Simon and I, we touched each other. A lot. And, and, grind. Grinding is fun,” says Timmy in an attempt to convince him.

“It is?” Armie is actually curious now.

“Uh-huh.”

“Wanna try after school?” he says, cocking his head,

Timmy sits up straight and leans back to look at him properly. “And you still think you’re not gay.” He laughs. “I guess you just had too much hetero sex.”

“Ha, no, I wouldn’t say too much but my mom goes on tours with her book club very often and my dad is never really home so... you know.”

“Of course, that is the _only _reason girls give you a head – an empty house.” Timmy deadpans. “You don’t have to be modest with me.” Timmy thinks for a second and says seriously. “Was that too much? What I said to Simon?”

Armie just shrugs. “Yeah, I guess it’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t fine.

By the next day, everyone knew Timmy and Armie were a thing.


	7. what'd you just do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited AT ALL

Lawton’s brows were impeccably plucked – Timmy could not help but notice. And as it has happened many times before, Timmy lets his mind conjure up images of a different Lawton who goes to a parlor, gets facials, who is actually a human being – to take his mind off the fact that his headmistress was pissed at him and was trying to hide the fact as well as she could.

Lawton’s brows furrow as she shakes her head, her fingers intertwining to rest beneath her chin. “I’m sorry, what are you trying to tell me now, Timothée?”

Fuck, he really should have made his mom do it. But his mom would never agree with him in the first place. Maybe Pauline…

“Timothée?” she urges.

He can’t back out now. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… um,” he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But I think I’ve made a mistake. It wasn’t much of a deal. I hate the fact that his prospects were ruined because of a stupid complaint I made. And I’d appreciate it if you could please get him back in the team.”

Lawton leans back on her chair. There's no other sound except for the squeaking of the chair. For a second Timmy thinks she is going to kick him out of her office, until she speaks again. “Timothée, you felt harassed and it _was_ a big deal. It is not possible to retract his punishment because you feel guilty now. And you shouldn’t feel guilty in the first place. Have you thought about talking to our counselor?”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t need a counselor, it’s pretty simple. I just need you to get him back in the team.”

“I’m afraid that is out of my hand.”

Frustrated, Timmy finally looks up at her. “Why?”

“It was coach Davidson’s decision to no longer have Armand on the team. The detention was mine.”

Taking a deep breath, Timmy leans against his chair, staring at the ceiling. He palms his inhaler in his pocket that he hasn’t used in years but often feels like he needs to. He takes a few more long breaths. He has to fix this. He_ has_ to.

Lawton pours him a glass of water. “Drink.” He obeys. “Calm down, and answer me this. Why do you feel guilty about reporting him? Breathe, okay? And take your time.”

Timmy rubs his face on his palm. He can’t trust his hyperactive mind to think right now, so he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Because he’s not the person I thought he was… He’s… he’s in denial. Because I think he did whatever he did… it has more to do with himself than me. He has a crazy, conservative mother. Absent father. He thinks he’s stupid but he’s really not. And I think that’s ‘cause he’s grown up learning that jocks can only concentrate on sports alone and every person has a certain role that they can’t- It’s just…” Timmy rubs his temple. “It’s gonna change his life, and him as a person. I don’t want that. We’ve talked and… yeah, he doesn’t seem like the person who’d… I don’t know. He’s just… he’s just, he didn’t know that boys have boundaries too.”

Lawton nods for a moment, thinking. “Are you two friends?”

Timmy shrugs. To be honest, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t mind spending time with Armie. Actually, he was kind of looking forward to lunch-break, thinking Armie might join him, Saoirse and Florence. Which Armie does that day and every day after that. The next week he finds Timmy and joins them without asking, carrying only a small carton of milk.

“Aren’t you supposed to eat a lot?” asks Florence.

Armie shrugs, straw in between lips. “No, why?”

“Um, 'cause you’re an athlete and built like a bull.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” says Armie, avoiding the honest answer. This is rationed. He doesn’t get paid for another day.

Timmy figures as much and it makes him feel even more pathetic. Lawton has promised she was going to have a discussion with coach Davidson, Armie and his parents about this. And Timmy is praying that it means Armie can play again, that he gets his car back, his pocket money and that he doesn’t have to wipe floors and he can focus more on his school work. Timmy offers him a carrot. And then what he gets in return makes his chest hurt. Armie smiles. The softest smile he’s ever seen on him. Is he blushing?

“No, I’m… thank you. I’m not really hungry.” Damn, he _is_ blushing. And then someone is slapping his back. Nick. Of course.

“Hey, man,” says Nick, ever the faithful friend, before sitting down. “Hope you don’t mind me joining,” he says to Timmy’s clique.

But Armie’s gaze is still dangling from Timmy’s eyes to Timmy’s hand, which still has that carrot in it, and back to his eyes, with that soft smile plastered onto his lips; not acknowledging Nick’s presence at all.

Timmy only hears it. He sees Armie looking away from him to look at someone behind him. Armie moves like lightening. And before Timmy can even understand why that random guy was making kissing noises behind him, Armie has the boy by the collar, pulling the fabric so hard that it exposes the boy’s shoulder.

“What’d just do?” Armie hisses.

“What the fuck, man, I didn’t do shit,” says the boy.

Armie stares for a moment before he lets go of his stretched shirt and sits back down.

“Are you _trying_ to get into more trouble?” says Nick.

Timmy’s heartbeat won’t slow down. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses under his breath.

“You didn’t see what he did,” says Armie.

“Don’t _ever_ do stuff like that. I hate violence… fucking toxic masculinity. And if you do, then don’t sit anywhere near me.”

Armie’s face falls. “I’m sorry… I was just defending you.”

“No, you were defending yourself. Fuck, everybody is looking at us,” he says before bolting from his seat.

He hears it from Florence that night.

“Apparently everybody thinks you’re now dating that jock,” says she over FaceTime, in bed already, naked under her blankets. Sleepy and sort of bored of this drama. "You know what this looks like? Marry your-" 

"Not funny, Flo." Timmy just takes a deep breath. To be honest, he’s not sure how he feels about the rumor. People think Timmy and Armie are together. So what? It doesn’t change anything. The notion doesn’t disgust him as it should. But it also means no one else will approach him. He doesn’t want to stay single his whole high school life. So, he is kind of mad. “Fucking Simon. I’m gonna kill him,” he says pretty calmly.

Florence exaggerates an ‘urgh’. “Timmy, fucking date him already and end this drama.”

“Simon? Been there, done that.”

“No, Hammer.”

“What?! Are you fucking drunk?”

“You should,” says Saoirse, coming into the frame out of nowhere, cuddling Florence from behind.

“What the fuck are you doing there?”

“Sleepover.”

“Without me! I’m– ”

“You didn’t pick up when I called you earlier! You sulking–”

“Guys!” yells Florence.

They fall silent, until Timmy finally says, “I feel really neglected when you hang out without me.”

“You’re only noticing it now ‘cause you’re single,” says Saoirse. “When Simon was in the picture–“

“Please, don’t mention that dickhead, it’s late.”

“You can come here, it’s not that late,” says Florence.

“No, I’m tired.”

“Are you mad at us?”

Timmy smiles and shakes his head.

“We’ll have a sleepover at Saoirse’s tomorrow, okay?”

When Timmy says goodnight to Saoirse and Florence, he sees a message request on his Messenger app. It’s from Armie.

_Armie Hammer: I keep doing something wrong. I’m sorry._

* * *

At least in the toilets, Timmy can expect to find relief, right? Right? No.

Armie Hammer bursts out of one of the stalls and chooses the sink next to his to wash his hands. “Hey,” he says carefully.

“Are you, like, stalking me?” says Timmy, rolling his eyes.

Armie’s eyes widen. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I swear–“

Then Nick comes out of another stall. Perfect.

“Do you guys do _everything _together?” says Timmy.

Nick shrugs. “Almost everything.” It takes him a moment to realize that both Timmy and Armie are staring at him. “Sorry.” He raises his eyebrows, finishes washing his hands. “I’ll wait outside. Jesus, the tention...”

Timmy waits for Armie to talk first because evidently they both want to talk. So, Armie goes first. “I’m probably back in the team. Thank you for that.”

“Probably?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna watch me for another month. See if I slip up again. That cafeteria thing didn't reach their ear, thank God.” He leans against the wall which makes Timmy scrunch up his nose and immediately stands up straight again. “Thank – thank you… for talking to Lawton.”

Timmy nods. “Is your mom still giving you a hard time?"

Armie chuckles but looks down. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m gonna –“

“You never answered.”

“You didn’t ask anything.”

“I mean, the text. You never replied.”

Timmy shrugs. “You didn’t ask anything.”

Armie audibly takes a deep breath, nods, kicks something invisible, pushes his lips out, thinking, thinking. “Will you give me another chance?”

“How many more chances do you need to realize that this is never going to happen?”

“What?”

“Don’t play with me, Hammer.”

“I’m not playing. I don’t understand you, I don’t always understand your ways. And I’m sorry for all the lines that I’ve crossed.”

Timmy shakes his head. “I think I might have overreacted a bit… That asshole is a bully and, while I don’t appreciate the almost-violence, you did stand up against him, which is something I’m too much of a coward to do…”

Armie looks at him, genuinely confused. “What are you talking about? You’re the bravest and smartest person I know.”

Timmy huffs out a laugh. “You don’t have to… whatever.”

Armie smiles. “Can we be friends again?”

“We weren’t friends before,” says Timmy and sees Armie nod and lower his head. “Why are you so insistent on being friends?”

Armie doesn’t look up, only checks to see if anyone else is in there with them. “I think I told you that I liked you… several times.”

“So, now you’re suddenly gay again?”

Armie chuckles bitterly. “Y'know, along with being the smartest person, you are also a real asshole.” Shaking his head, he walks out of the toilet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is getting very dialogue-heavy. I just feel like this style is suited for this story 'cause the characters themselves sometimes don't know what they want until they open their mouths. Let me know if it's annoying / not working.


	8. first and foremost, fuck Ansel

_the following week_

Timmy’s whole body is on fire. All the blood cells leave his head and rush towards where Armie keeps rubbing himself on. Sounds tumble out of his mouth – sounds that he did not know he was capable of making. When did his left leg curl around the other boy’s waist without his permission? The other foot almost not touching the floor, on tiptoe. These steady thrusts are almost unbearable. He pushes back with all his might. His groin must merge with the other’s or life won’t make any sense. He grabs the tiny hairs at the nape of Armie’s neck, twitches his fingers around his flimsy shirt. He might tear or stretch it. He doesn’t care. Armie has been sucking all the blood out through the slit Timmy is sure he has made on his neck. He doesn’t care. The crown of his head keeps thudding against the wall as he stretches his neck for him. And with every rub, he gasps louder, until he feels the body against him shudder, until he hears the throaty groan. This must be so painful. Why does it sound so painful? Ocean blue eyes look back at him and the thrusts continue, shallow now. Clumsy lips and an equally clumsy tongue wrapping around his. How kind – he thinks – how kind, to give these lips, tongue, and body to him.

How did they end up here you ask? How could they have ignored it?

First of all, fuck Ansel. Fuck him for throwing this party. Fuck him for luring him here with free weed and booze as compensation. Then, fuck Armie for feeling sorry for him and coming to check if he was alright when he ran to the bathroom to puke his guts out. Fuck Saoirse and Florence for not stopping him and rushing out when Timmy whispered a soft ‘come here’ before grabbing the back of Armie’s neck and bringing his face down to kiss him senseless. Fuck Armie again for not stopping him. _Fuck Armie!_ Fuck Armie…

“Fuck…” Timmy whimpers, lightly thudding his head back on the wall. “Fuck… I came in my pants, urgh.”

“Me too,” says Armie, out of breath still, putting Timmy down on the floor properly.

Timmy looks up at him and they burst out laughing, brushing each other’s cheeks with their breath, smelling of alcohol, weed, deodorant, and vomit.

Timmy gets self-conscious and closes his mouth abruptly.

“I thought you… you’d be mad at me again,” says Armie, seriously.

“Then why didn’t you stop?”

Armie shrugs.

“I thought _you_ were mad at me,” says Timmy.

Armie pushes his lips out, shakes his head calmly.

He is too close. So close that Timmy can swear he can feel the damp spot through his pants. He slips out from between Armie and the wall and goes to the sink hoping to find mouthwash, toothpaste, anything. He grabs the mouthwash, checks the label for a second, and pours some into his mouth. It burns his tongue. It feels so harsh after what Armie’s tongue has done.

“So, are you?” says Armie.

Timmy stares at him in the mirror over the sink and gurgles. Armie stands leaning against the door, arms folded over his chest as though his wet underwear is not bothering him in the least.

“I guess you are as you’re washing your mouth like I just gave you HIV with my spit.”

Timmy eyes him, spits on the sink. “It’s ‘cause I puked, genius.”

A smile spreads on Armie’s face. But the next second – “shit…” Armie cups his mouth and checks his breath.

Timmy tries hard to conceal his embarrassment. “Don’t worry, I rinsed before I…”

“Yeah?”

Timmy frowns. “I think so…” Timmy takes some toilet paper and looks back at Armie who is ogling him. “Some privacy?”

“Oh,” says Armie, only now realizing what Timmy wants to do, and turns around but doesn’t leave.

Timmy opens the buttons of his jeans, pulls it down enough so as to not expose his ass, and tries to scrape the discharge off his underwear. Of course, it does nothing to make him feel less uncomfortable. “Shit…” he mumbles. “Don’t look,” he says to Armie, pulls his pants and underwear down, and then puts only the jeans back on. Carefully folding the underwear, he wraps it in toilet paper and dumps it in the bin. He is not sure he cares if Ansel sees it, but he is also high, so…

“You gonna hang around with sperm in your pants?” says Timmy.

“Can I turn around now?”

“If I so no, will you obey?”

Armie turns around. “No, probably not.”

“I can see a wet spot there, you know.”

Armie doesn’t even look down to check. “No, you can’t,” he says confidently. “Do you know how thick these jeans are?”

“I give it another hour.”

“I’m not staying for another hour.”

Timmy doesn’t know what makes him say it but he smiles, dazed, and says, “me neither.”

Armie smiles back. “Let me walk you home; you still look high as a kite.”

“As if you aren’t.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“You don’t?” Timmy says, incredulous.

Armie smiles and shakes his head.

When they leave the apartment, they hear a whistle from the living room but don’t care enough to look back. Once out in the silent street, Timmy pulls Armie aside by his jacket and wraps an arm around his neck.

“Can I touch you?” Armie whispers against his lips.

Timmy hums and Armie wraps his torso under the shirt and caresses his back, chest, the tiny bump under his bellybutton. They forget for how long they make out, but eventually, Armie pulls back and, as promised, walks him home.

* * *

_   
8:32 am _

Armie: ‘Morning, sunshine! The sun is shining bright in the sky!

_9:47 am_

Timmy <3: fuck off

Timmy <3: how the fuck do I have your numver

Timmy <3: how the fukc u have MY number

Armie: I got you to put it on my phone last night when you refused to let go of my neck in front of your house.

Armie: Don’t tell me you forgot that you added a heart after your name.

Armie: I already had your number btw. But you insisted

Armie: on that heart

Timmy <3: fu

Timmy <3: ck

Armie: I’m assuming you are hungover.

Timmy <3: it’s getting worse mom been up my ass

Armie: Have you told her about the weed? Or just the alcohol?

Timmy <3: I m deleting this message

Armie: So…

Armie: You don’t remember much from last night, do you?

Timmy <3: Urgh

Timmy <3: I remember what I’m sure you want me to remember

Armie: Do you regret it?

Timmy <3: Haven’t decided yet

_11:02 am_

Timmy <3: No


	9. well, this is boring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when I said I'm gonna start the main plot soon... yeah... I need to establish other stuff first for that

Armie: Help me with the statistics homework? I’m lost.

Armie: You said you’d help.

Timmy <3: don’t lie

Timmy <3: my place.

Armie: 😁

Armie: Your parents will be okay with it?

Timmy <3: yeah they’re cool

Timmy grabs Armie’s wrist and drags him towards the stairs as soon as Armie steps inside. And the second Timmy hears his mom calling him from the living room, he knows she is so not cool with this.

“We’re just gonna do homework,” he explains before Nicole even says anything, quickly letting go of Armie's hand.

She eyes them both. “Can I speak with you? Alone, Timothée.”

“It’s okay, I’ll…” Armie says hesitantly and makes his way to the door. “I’ll ask Nick to help me. It’s fine.”

“But I said I’d help,” says Timmy.

“In the kitchen. Now,” warns Nicole.

Timmy tuts and follows his mom after telling Armie to ‘just wait here’.

Nicole simply raises her eyebrows, awaiting an explanation.

“What?” says Timmy.

“Isn’t that the Hammer kid?”

“Yes.”

“The one you complained to your principle about?”

“Yeah?”

“Timmy, what is going on with you–”

“It’s okay now, mom. We’ve talked and we’re friends. Kind of.”

Nicole only frowns.

“Mom, just trust me, okay? I’m only helping him with statistics.”

“We still have the 'no boys in your room' rule, Timmy.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “I thought that was for Paulin.”

“No, that was and is for everyone. I don’t want to hear anything more. Do your homework in the living room or your friend can go home.”

...

“Well, this sucks,” Timmy huffs, opening his book.

“I…” Armie stops midway from getting his notebook out of his bag.

Timmy drums his pen on his teeth while Armie stares awkwardly at him. “Okay, fine. Get your damn books out.”

Timmy thought he would be banging his head against the wall out of frustration by the time they finished the homework. But as it turns out, Armie doesn’t really need much help from him. He is just a bit clumsy. He does things fast as though he is already impatient with everything and wants to be done with it, which results in tiny mistakes that end up frustrating him even more. But once he relaxes after Timmy tells him to do so, Armie is fine on his own. He is actually quite brilliant. He doesn’t need to work that hard to be good at things like Timmy does. And that in turn frustrates Timmy. So he stares him down as Armie concentrates on the math and he feels this weird urge to grab his face, hands, anything. To touch his hair because it looks so soft up close. To touch the bridge of his nose because it looks like someone has sculpted it with care. And those full lips getting redder and redder as he bites on them every time he has to stop and think about the problem. But Timmy can’t, because he can see his mother approaching them.

“Are you two hungry?” she asks.

Armie only timidly shakes his head, still mortified from their encounter earlier.

“Not really,” says Timmy.

“There’s snacks in the kitchen in case you are,” she says. That’s when Timmy notices that Nicole is dressed up. A sly grin appears on his face and Nicole frowns disapprovingly. “Look, I have to meet up with a client. Timmy, please respect the rule. And I’ll be back in about an hour.” She stops for a second. “I trust you, okay?” She says before she leaves, throwing a last glance at her son.

“What was that about?” Armie was clueless.

Timmy keeps smirking. “We have a no-boys-in-the-bedroom rule.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Timmy says before standing up, pulling Armie up by his wrist and dragging him towards the stairs again.

“Wait, where are you taking me?”

“My bedroom.”

“But your mom–“

“My mom is not here.”

They laugh and stumble up the stairs and into Timmy’s bedroom. Man on the Moon and Spider-man posters adorn his walls. Bright white curtains carelessly letting the light in. A very disorganized and messy reading table sits beside an equally messy desktop computer. Articles of clothing from this morning scatter over the blue sheets of the bed. But Timmy is not embarrassed about all that because Armie is not really looking at anything except…

As they hurried into the room as though if they didn’t hurry, his mom would catch them red-handed, Timmy pushed Armie into the room and then got in himself and shut the door. He turned around to see Armie standing mere inches away from him, a fading smile on his face, his breath brushing Timmy’s cheek. His eyes are the bluest Timmy has ever seen. This is the first time he’s seeing him this close in broad daylight and sober.

“Now what?” says Armie. His eyes gloomy.

“If you…” says Timmy, a little out of breath. “If you want to kiss me now, you can.”

Armie smiles and cups his cheek. “You sure? You won’t report me again?”

“Fuck you.” Timmy chuckles.

But then Armie’s lips are on his and they are soft. He is just brushing them against his. Timmy parts his lips for him and Armie easily lets his tongue slip between them. Chest to chest, mouths slotted, Timmy feels that their groins are about to touch. When did his cock fill out without his permission? And as Armie tentatively lets their crotches touch, an unintentional whimper escapes Timmy mouth which startles Armie and he pulls back to look at him. Timmy’s cheeks redden as Armie starts snickering. What a beautiful sound. But Timmy wants to die right now. He buries his face in the fabric on the taller boy’s shoulder so he can’t see his face anymore.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” says Armie, struggling to stop laughing. “Hey,” he grabs Timmy’s face between his palms and tenderly makes him face him. Timmy slightly pushes his lower lip out and Armie kisses that plush lower lip. “I’m sorry, but that was kinda cute.” Timmy fake-punches him in his abs which does nothing but instigate more laughter. So Timmy snakes his hand under Armie’s shirt, finds his nipple, and pinches it. It makes him squeak and jump away.

“Cute?” Timmy challenges.

“You fucking minx,” Armie whispers and grabs both of his wrists and crushes their mouths together.

When after minutes they separate to take a nice long breath, Armie’s hair is a mess and Timmy’s pants are lower than they were before, revealing a slight line of dark hair. They breathe against each other. Armie still smells of gum and saliva.  
“I’m sorry,” says Armie sincerely this time. “It’s just still a little weird to me… being with another guy and I… I like… I didn’t know I’d like it this much…”

Armie’s brows are furrowed and Timmy smoothes them with his thumbs. “It’s okay to feel weird.” He leans in for another kiss when he hears the front door open. “Fuck…”

“Timmy,” calls Pauline from downstairs.

“Shit!” Timmy whispers and shoves Armie away and runs to slap the on button of his CPU. But it takes longer for the computer to turn on than Pauline to get upstairs and open the door of his bedroom without knocking.

“Hey, Pauline, hi. This… this is Armie,” says Timmy, panicky and still out of breath.

Paulin stares for moment. “Hi,” she says robotically to Armie who is standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Timmy, the bedroom rule.”

“It’s okay, I just wanted to show him the new game I bought. What are you doing home so early?” Timmy tries to change the subject.

“Mom texted me.”_._

_Fuck_

Armie is politely asked to leave. And dinner is delayed in the Chalamet household.


	10. not comfortable with that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic may be written in third person POV but it's still almost entirely from Timmy's perspective. So you may come across some problematic wordings and ways of thinking and behavior. Know that this does not reflect my own views in any way (i.e. Timmy's tendency of forgiving Armie and thinking he can/should change him.) People are problematic. And the characters here are pretty young and dumb.   
Anyway, hope this chapter isn't shit. Not edited as per usual. I'm sure there are tons of mistakes there. Apologies.

Armie finds Timmy in the hallway the next morning. “How you doing?”

There is something foreign in his tone. “Why’d you sound like that?”

Armie frowns. “Like what?” When Timmy shrugs, he continues. “Were your parents too hard on you?”

Timmy thinks about last night’s drama. His family - they worry too much. ‘We are worried,’ his parents kept saying. ‘How do you know this boy is not dangerous?’ Timmy’s answer was inadequate. ‘He just isn’t!’ He has no idea why he doesn’t think Armie could be dangerous. Armie _is_ a giant but in a nonthreatening way. He is a gentle giant, Timmy thinks, yes. He can be abrasive and a little naïve sometimes, but, also sweet and almost adorable at times. Even the way he moves or carries himself, he looks like the most non-threatening person in school. Nothing about him says ‘_attack!_’ No. It’s more like _come here, let me pet you._ There’s an _openness_ to him; his broad shoulders and huge arms seem like they are there to welcome you. But Timmy couldn’t describe this silly analysis to his family without sounding crazy. His parents would tell him that he is immature, that he only thinks so because he likes the guy. And then he ran upstairs from the dining table when his mom said that maybe it would be better to take Timmy with them to France now and not wait for the end of the term, and his dad was actually considering it.

He shortens the answer for Armie. “Just lecture. I overestimated them, I guess.”

“How’d you mean?”

“Apparently they’re not as chill as I thought they were. They’re coddling me. It’s fucking suffocating.”

“They just don’t trust me.”

Timmy stops to look at him for a second, checking his expression. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Stings. I just feel like a dirty old pervert.” Armie scrunches up his face comically and then shrugs. “Did you get grounded?”

“My parents don’t do that.”

“Wow. Wanna switch parents?”

Timmy laughs. “You don’t want that.” Then Timmy remembers the narrow-minded bullshit he got from Armie’s mom in the parking lot. “Or maybe you do. Did you finish your homework?”

Armie nodded.

_Concerned! Right!_ That’s what it sounded like when Armie asked him how he was doing. Now that he sounds normal again, Timmy can pinpoint the difference. He sounded concerned. _For me?_

Timmy smiles to himself. “Hey, so, do you wanna like… hang out? This Saturday? I’m going to watch a movie with my friends. You should… come along.” They weren’t. At least nothing was planned. But Timmy is positive he can drag Saoirse and Florence to the cinema if he wants to.

A crease appears between Armie’s brows. “This Saturday? I… I can’t. I have a…. thing, this thing... work…”

“This thing. Right,” says Timmy to the floor, mentally kicking himself. Armie is so easy to read. Timmy just hopes he doesn’t look as embarrassed as he feels right now. Of course, Armie fucking Hammer doesn’t want to hang out with him. Stupid of him to ask. He plasters a grin on his face and looks up at the boy. “Right. I have English now.”

* * *

Friday afternoon finds the two under the bleachers. “Such a fucking cliché,” Timmy whispers lazily against Armie’s lips. He doesn’t know why he allows this to happen every time he is offered. This fire that he feels in the pit of his stomach is something he has never felt before, not with Simon, not with the poster of a young Ricardo Kaká on his wall, not with his left hand, not with porn. Nothing compares to what it does to him when Armie’s lips meet his skin.

“Hm?” comes Armie’s reply.

Timmy grabs a handful of his hair and pulls him away to look at his face. But Armie’s eyes are clouded with lust and he lunges back in to press kisses against Timmy’s neck. Timmy’s eyes flutter close as he throws his head back. “You’re so no straight,” he whispers through a blissed-out smile.

“You’re effeminate,” Armie mumbles, his words caught in the chasm of Timmy’s neck and shoulder.

Timmy snorts. “What?”

Armie pulls back and looks at him, not allowing much space between their bodies. “E-ffemi-nate.”

“Fuck you, too,” says Timmy and playfully shoves him away. He smiles and puts his hands in his pocket, finding it hard not to make it awkward now that they’re not making out anymore. Stares, as Armie shamelessly adjusts his hard-on and leans against a pillar, smiling up at him. “How do you know that word? Found it while taking the ‘am I gay’ Buzzfeed quiz?”

“You think I’m illiterate.”

“No. Just a little thick-skulled, maybe. Going by the hot blonde jock stereotype.” He shrugs. “Harmless.”

Armie laughs before taking an audible breath in that makes a vibrating sound. Timmy can’t help but follow his Adam’s apple as it bobs up and down. Thank God he chose to wear loose trousers today. He is not confident enough to not mind if his erection is visible. Unlike Armie.

“I _have_ taken the Buzzfeed quiz, by the way. You having a dick is not completely lost on me,” said Armie.

“What are you then? Closeted queen?”

Armie shrugs casually. “Says I’m straight.”

With his tongue between his teeth, Timmy shakes his head, smiling. “If you can’t quite remember what you felt in my pants just minutes ago, I can refresh your memory.”

“That’s my point.”

“What is?”

“You’re effeminate.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean, maybe that’s why I’m attracted to you. You’re pretty. Like… crazy beautiful.”

This makes Timmy blush. Smiling like an idiot, he looks down at his shoes. He is not proud of his reaction. Probably he should be offended. But is looking like a girl really a bad thing? He doesn’t think so. It shouldn’t be. And it doesn’t look like Armie means it as bad thing anyway. “Okay. A. thank you. B. guys can be pretty too. Deconstruct masculinity–”

“Sure,” Armie cuts him off. “But that’s not what I saw growing up. I knew girls were pretty and guys were tough. And yes, that’s stupid but probably that’s how my id was constructed.” He frowns at his own phrasings, feeling stupid, afraid Timmy might misunderstand his again. “I know better now and I’m trying to change, I really am, but that’s not the point.”

“Then arrive at the point.”

Armie rolls his eyes. “Urgh… I don’t know how to explain it.”

Timmy keeps smiling at him like an idiot. “You’re so cute when you’re frustrated.”

“Shut up.” Armie plants his huge palm over Timmy’s face and pushes him fondly. “I just mean that… that maybe my mind sees you as a girl, y’know. I dunno. That sounds stupid. Urgh, I dunno. Maybe it’s just a blip. Just puberty or whatever. People get weird during puberty, right? All I know is, I like what this…” Armie motions between them. “…what this is. I like kissing you. A lot. So I’m rolling with it.”

Timmy stares. _Armie is confused_. But it’s okay to be confused at their age, he thinks. Just because he is confident about his sexuality, doesn’t mean everybody else should be. And he would probably have been offended or felt used if Armie had indicated in any way that he was experimenting with him. But what Armie has said almost sounded like he likes Timmy regardless of his gender. And that seems more… pure to him somehow. Perhaps Armie isn’t ready yet to figure out his own identity or he simply doesn’t want to be put into a box. Does it really matter after what Armie has just said? Absolutely not.

But that would also mean that Armie perhaps wants to keep this casual. Just casual. Timmy isn’t sure that’s what he wants. But he also likes ‘what this is’. And the more time he spends with Armie, the more he begins to understand him and like him. Timmy doesn’t want to lose that. He opens his mouth to clarify it, but then shuts it immediately. On second thought, he doesn’t really wanna disturb what they have. It has taken Armie quite a lot to come this far. He doesn’t wanna freak him out by asking him if they’re boyfriends or not. If Armie still identifies as straight then maybe it is not the right time for this discussion. Armie would definitely run away from him and Timmy doesn’t want that. So instead he asks, “So you wanna keep this a secret?”

“I just… I don’t wanna flaunt, that’s…”

Timmy nods ungently. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“But everybody kinda knows already... We thought we’d pretend to be friends but that didn’t really work, did it? And they saw us at the party that night… And then your ex... Everybody knows.”

“You’re not comfortable with that.”

Armie shakes his head, a little embarrassed, looking at his shoes.

What happened between them in October wasn’t really helping Armie. Timmy could imagine his feeling of disgust, not for only liking a boy but also for nearly assaulting him. Well, sort of. And then the people around him also finding him repulsive because of it, his family being horrible to him. All this associated with his adoration and want for Timmy. It was tainted with that shame. Of course, he wasn’t comfortable.

“I’m sorry I asked you to hang out with us. I hope you didn’t feel… pressured or something. Won’t happen again.”

“No, that was really sweet of you. I just…”

Timmy steps closer to him and places a swift kiss on the hair of the bowed head. His blonde hair soft against his lips. Armie’s head jerks back up, a curious smile on his face.

“You’re weird,” says Armie when Timmy grins at him.

“Just roll with it, yeah?”

“Roll with it.”

* * *

**Sunday**

Armie: How was the movie?

Timmy <3: didn’t go

Armie: Why?

Timmy <3: folks leaving for france soon. figured i’d spend some quality time with them

Armie: And how’s that going?

Timmy <3: pretty good actually. no threats of taking me with them yet

Armie: Why are you so afraid of going to France? Heard it’s pretty dope there. Especially for an artsy kid like you.

Timmy <3: that’s a very long story

Armie: Slow day at the café. I’ve got time.

Timmy <3: why are you still working? aren’t you back on the team?

Armie: That’s another long story. Would invite you to come hang but you’re spending time with your family.

In truth, Timmy is lying on his bed alone in his room as always. He doesn’t even know where his parents are. His dad is most probably in his home office. He knows Pauline isn’t home. His mom said she had a client to meet up with. Or was it yesterday?

So when he learns that Armie Hammer wants to hang out with him, he bolts right up on his bed. He doesn’t want to overthink and ruin it. He doesn’t even want to pretend that he is too cool for this because he is not. He wants this, he wants to hang out with Armie. Roll with it, right?

Timmy <3: be there in 10

...

“Mom is hell-bent on punishing me. I’m just waiting for dad to finish his trip and get back home so I can have my pocket money back,” says Armie as Timmy listens, sitting on a stool placed in front of the counter, sipping on his bubble tea. ‘The manager isn’t in,’ Armie informed him. It is pretty early still and the café is almost empty. So nobody cares about the scrawny kid sitting there, blushing lightly as the straw dangles from his mouth slightly, not really blocking the place for orders but just being a slight hindrance, staring lovingly at the golden boy behind the counter as the blonde finds things to keep his hands busy. “I don’t like working here. It’s brainless work.”

“So is football.”

“No, it isn’t. Ever kick a ball? It takes a lot of work up here,” he says pointing a finger at his temple.

“Your dad isn’t… isn’t homophobic?”

“No. And I don’t like your indication that my mom is ‘cause she isn’t.”

“Okay…” Timmy doesn’t quite understand. If Papa Hammer is anything like Dru Hammer, that would mean he is homophobic and upset with Armie as well, and Armie would still argue that neither of them is homophobic. Timmy wants to ask what his relationship with his dad is like but he is not sure, Armie might be sensitive about it. So he stays quiet.

“So why don’t you wanna go to Paris?”

“They’re not going to Paris. France. I said France. They’re going to Bordeaux.”

“Same shit,” says Armie but then does a double-take, furrows his brows comically. “Say that again.”

Timmy turns bright red, bows his head because he can’t stop grinning. “Bordeaux,” says Timmy bringing out the frenchiest French in himself.

“Why is that hot?” Armie wonders aloud.

Timmy shrugs, squirming in his seat, still unable to look at Armie. “I speak French.”

“Right, your dad. So that’s out. Language is not a problem. What is then?”

“Look, I…” How do you tell the ‘straight’ boy you’ve been kissing for a week now that he is a contributing factor in this, that nothing like this has ever happened to you before and you are not yet ready to give up on this. Timmy looks up finally. “Well, mainly cause if I leave now, I’ll have to wait ‘til the next term starts to go to school there. And I don’t wanna lag behind. But also like… my friends are here, I love this city, this is all I know. Who knows how I will be received in school there? I don’t wanna turn into a new person or start anew. I don’t even know who I am yet. And I wanna go to Julliard. Not that France doesn’t have good schools. But like… I… I’ll miss you,” Timmy blurts out all his incoherent thoughts before looking up at Armie.

Laughter spills out of Armie’s mouth. Timmy is sure he can see tears in his eyes from laughing. Someone orders muffins and, ruffling the front locks of Timmy’s hair, Armie goes to pack the food, laughter fading a little but still there.

There’s a pit right at the center of Timmy’s chest. He feels everything being sucked into it. He keeps his eyes on Armie, smiling, fighting to hide his embarrassment.


	11. he thinks you're beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to a slowed version of Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex while writing. So apologies for cheesiness.  
warning: nsfw ahead
> 
> I repeat: This fic may be written in third person POV but it's still almost entirely from Timmy's perspective. So you may come across some problematic wordings and ways of thinking and behavior (i.e. Timmy's tendency of forgiving Armie and thinking he can/should change him etc.) Know that this does not reflect my own views in any way. People are problematic. And the characters here are pretty young and dumb.

It doesn’t hit him properly until Saoirse and Florence call and ask him how it went. Timmy is a big crier, but he holds it together as he tells them what happened and realizes how fucked up it was, how embarrassed and ashamed and like a loser he feels right now.

“What an arsehole!” came from Florence. “Why didn’t you just punch him square in the face?”

But Saoirse, ever the level headed one, comes to his support. “Look… he’s probably one of those ‘manly manz’ who get uncomfortable talking about anything sensitive, alright? He probably didn't know how to react to what you'd said. I’m not saying you should put up with him. But understand where he is coming from, then you decide if you want to or not. If he’s worth it.”

That night, after brushing his teeth, Timmy stares into the mirror for a while, watches his nose scrunch up in disgust, watches his eyes water slowly, and then the tears dripping down. Not for the first time Armie Hammer has made him cry. And it won’t be the last.

He keeps reciting _he said he likes you, he thinks you’re beautiful_ as a mantra to make himself feel better but it does nothing to bring back his self-respect.

* * *

Somebody thumps into the chair beside him too noisily and sighs like it’s a routine for them, making a couple of heads turn towards them. Timmy doesn’t need to look up to know who it is, but out of his furtive anxiety-filled tendencies, he looks up to see if anyone is throwing them dirty looks. They are in the library for chrissake! Timmy doesn’t acknowledge his presence and pours over his English assignment when he sees that nobody is looking at them anymore, which doesn’t seem to bother the other boy who just folds his arms over the table and silently reads the notes Timmy’s taking from a tome he has pulled out of the shelves.

Timmy lets him for a while before he looks up, an annoyed frown on his face. “What do you want?” he whispers.

“Nothing. Just have a free period,” Armie whispers back.

“I find it hard to believe that you’d decide to spend your free period in the library for no reason.”

“No, I came here looking for you.”

“How’d know where I was?”

“Put a chip in your brain,” he says, touching Timmy’s forehead with his pointer finger, very pleased with himself.

Timmy has had enough. He doesn’t even spare him an eye-roll, goes back to his assignment.

“Bumped into Shelly. She told me. She was running to statistics,” said Armie, pulling out his notebook from his bag.

“Shel–? _Saoirse…_” He sighs. He's done with him. Done.

“Yup, that one.”

“Aren’t you afraid someone’s gonna see you hanging out with a loser?”

“Nah, fuck ‘em, you're cool.”

“Your change of mind is giving me whiplash.”

“Can we look at that book together?” he says simply, pointing at the book Timmy is taking notes from.

Timmy stares at him. This guy, this fucking asshole made him cry, made him feel horrible. And now he is pretending as though everything is okay. “You made fun of me, Armie.”

Armie snorts. “What? When?”

The bastard doesn’t even seem confused like _yeah I probably _have_ made of you but I don’t care enough to notice your reaction or to remember. _But it’s partly on Timmy as well. He didn’t really react to Armie being an asshole to him. No. He just smiled and pretended everything was okay. And everything was, for a while. He thought it wasn’t a big deal, he would get over it. But after he went home, replays of the event piled on his mind and it got worse every time and Timmy felt even more insulted. He felt like an idiot. “When I said... when I said I’ll miss you when I leave for France.”

_“When _you leave for France? I thought you weren’t.”

“I am.”

“When?”

“After graduation.”

“What happened to Julliard?”

“Fuck Julliard.”

“Dude, you crying?” says Armie with a tone of amusement.

Timmy didn’t realize that his eyes were watering. But fuck this. He doesn’t have the strength to pretend to be okay anymore. “You’re difficult. You’re a difficult person to be around,” he says, rubbing his forehead with his thumbs and sniffling.

Armie sits and watches him for a while, lets Timmy cry. He delicately catches a tear on his pointer finger and looks at it dazedly, finally realizing that it is not funny, that this is perhaps more than what either of them thought it to be. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks in a small voice.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, and leaves, dragging his hand along the back of Timmy’s head lovingly.

...

When the bell rings, Timmy gathers his things and finds that Armie has accidentally left his notebook on the table. He contemplates leaving it here. Who cares if it gets lost? Certainly not Armie. Timmy doubts if it has anything actually important written in it. He opens the notebook to check. His handwriting… Timmy isn't sure if he has ever seen Shakespeare's handwriting anywhere on the internet, but he’s pretty sure it looked similar to this. He goes through a few more pages and then stops. Two pages filled with his name written in a hundred different fonts.

...

Timmy smiles during the next period. The bastard didn’t even forget the accent over the 'e'. But then he remembers the café and he stops. Wonders if he left the notebook behind on purpose, hoping Timmy would go through it. 

Then during lunch, Timmy sees Nick literally dragging Armie (who looks slightly annoyed but also like someone who has given up his whole self to the wits of his friend) by his bicep to the table where Timmy, Saoirse, and Florence are and dumps him beside Timmy before sitting down himself and offering the girls a smile. “Hello, ladies,” he says.

Timmy looks up at Armie to find him shyly trying to catch his eyes. When he does, Armie offers a timid smile. Fuck… He’s too fucking cute for his giant stature. A smile slips through Timmy’s mouth.

He’s screwed. He’s smitten with this asshole.

“Hi,” says Armie, equally timidly.

Nick huffs loudly. “What he means is that he is an asshole and he’s sorry and he likes you,” he says impatiently. “Also, he would like to hang out with you after school.”

Timmy stares at Nick with his cheeks slowly turning red.

“Yes, I am his hired interpreter. He does or says something stupid, hit me up.”

Timmy is already planning how he's going to lie to his mom again about going to Saoirse's place after school. Then he mentally slaps himself for being so eager, so easy. He gets the notebook out of his bag and hands it to Armie. “You forgot it in the library.”

Armie just simply says, “oh, thanks.” It doesn’t look like he even remembers what’s written inside it.

Timmy starts smiling to himself again.

* * *

“Timmy…” says Armie, his voice a little scared. “I think, you're right... I think I might be gay…” He looks dazed and confused.

“Okay.”

“I thought it was only you that I liked… but I got… I got hard looking at a male model online yesterday…?” He frowns as though he himself can’t believe that he has done this or that he is telling someone else about it.

Timmy smiles a little indulgently. “First time?”

“Sort of. I… you don’t mind, right?”

Timmy keeps smiling and, closing his eyes, shakes his head. "Did you jerk off?"

“No. Thought of dead puppies and it went away."

Timmy lets out a laugh.

"But I don’t… I don’t understand…”

“You don’t have to understand it right away, you’re barely eighteen.”

“But you do. You know exactly who you are.”

“Not exactly. I just know what I like. Each person has it different. I grew up among all sorts of diverse people. And my parents never tried to conceal any of it from me. In your case, I guess you didn’t even know it was an option until your balls dropped. For some, it takes time.”

“Yeah, but what if I’m always confused? Even when I’m a proper adult?”

“Who cares? It’s not like you have to put it on your résumé.”

Armie snorts. “You’re weird, Chalamet,” he says, ruffling Timmy’s hair, and his tone changes. “And funny. And smart. And so fucking pretty. You even look pretty when you cry. Devastatingly so.”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“Well, it has a price,” he says, grabbing himself through his pants suggestively.

Timmy’s face falls. Sirens start to go off in his brain. This was how Simon dumped him.

“Oh Jesus, you look mortified,” Armie laughs. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on his lips. “Alternatively…” he says and gets down on his knees. He looks a bit hesitant like he is not really sure where to look or what to do. Tentatively, he unbuttons Timmy’s jeans before looking up at him. Through his long eyelashes, Armie looks like the gentlest person Timmy has ever seen. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Timmy is shaking. He swears he can feel Armie’s breath against his groin. He nods. God knows why, but he nods. He isn’t going to pretend he hasn’t imagined that mouth on his body. But he always thought it would be he who would have to go down on Armie the first time and not the other way around. But there Armie was, on his knees, gently getting Timmy’s by-now-hard cock out.

Armie takes a second looking at it. Timmy supposes he has never touched someone else’s cock before. But this is so uncomfortable. Then Timmy keeps jerking every time Armie attempts to take it in his mouth.

Finally, Armie takes a leap of faith and licks it before putting the head in his mouth.

Timmy can’t look at it. He closes his eyes and throws his head back, stifles his own cries, and grabs onto Armie’s soft blonde hair for support. And that makes Armie a bit too enthusiastic and he attempts to deep-throat him but every time ends up gagging.

“It’s… _fuck_… you don’t have to– fuck,_ Armie!_” Timmy loses control and comes before he can warn Armie properly. The taller boy chokes and stands up, only to then double over and dry heave a couple of times. His eyes clutched shut. Only jizz comes out of his mouth. Timmy digs the heels of his palm into his eye sockets in embarrassment. He wants the earth to swallow him whole right fucking now.

Armie spits a couple more times and groans. “Jesus, man... Couldn’t warn me?” He makes gurgly noises of disgust and spits again.

“I’m _so_ fucking sorry…”

* * *

**9:26 pm**

Armie: I had fun today.

Timmy buries his face in his pillow and groans. He can’t stop grinning from ear to ear.

Timmy <3: think i had more fun than you did tbh

Armie: So that was okay, right?

Timmy <3: that was amazing

Armie: Glad to hear that 😎 Had to do a lot of research for it.

Timmy <3: was that when you came across that “male model”?

Armie: Perhaps.

Timmy <3: don’t do too much research. wud hate to lose you to a pornstar.

Armie: I’m not the one leaving.

Armie: Would you look at my English assignment before we have to submit?

Timmy <3: third period off tmrw

Armie: Chemistry.

Timmy <3: After school?

Armie: See you then. Goodnight.

Timmy smiles still. Armie has a different way of apologizing, a different sort of sincerity. He opens up in ways that may not seem as though he is actually opening up, but he has to break down a wall to get there. And he has. And Timmy is… Timmy is okay with it, yes, he thinks so. Yes.


	12. get hot chocolate and walk around

**December **

Timmy: invite me over

Florence: come over!

Timmy: dammit flo ask me why first

Florence: why first?

Timmy: UGH

*incoming call*

“_O, what can ail thee, knight at arms?” _comes Florence’s voice.

Timmy frowns. “What?”

“Are you sad ‘cause of the fam?”

Timmy twists the corner of the sheet around his finger. He really needs to get everything out of the boxes or at least make the bed properly so he can lie down and have a good cry. “Yeah…” he replies in a small voice.

“Come over, then. Can’t promise alcohol but we can binge on leftover roast and forget about our sorrows.”

Timmy snorts. “I really want to but I should probably unpack stuff.”

“Fuck that. You can do that tomorrow. Come over. I’ll call Serse.”

Timmy really didn’t need much coercing. He would rather be with his friends right now than fucking Ansel or mope around in his new room.

And then, “where you going?” comes Ansel’s voice as Timmy is leaving the apartment.

“The fuc– Who asked you to mom me?”

“Your mom,” he says seriously.

“Fuck off!” says Timmy and leaves.

To be honest, Timmy doesn’t know what his mom told Ansel. ‘Look after him ‘cause you two are the same age but he is a baby and you’re not because you’re on the football team, and you’re tall and you have muscles on your bones’? He is pretty sure she talked to Ansel about “the Hammer kid” as well. He got a lecture about her too; ‘keep away from bad company’ and ‘don’t let anyone take advantage of you just because you like them’ and ‘call me immediately whenever you feel in any way vulnerable’ and all that shit. He hates to think that she has told all this to Ansel as well, making Timmy seem like a little weakling who needs to be taken care of all the time._ Fuck you, mom._ And there he was, actually missing her.

At least he can revel in the fact that half the time Ansel’s stupid ass forgets to even flush the toilet, so no doubt he has already forgotten half the stuff his mom has told him, and by the next week, he’ll forget all of it.

…

Timmy <3: wanna spend new year’s eve at nicks?

‘At Nick’s’ has become a code for whenever they want each other to come to their place, coming from the times Armie had to lie to his mother saying he was going to Nick’s house and Nick would lie for them if his Dru Hammer ever asked. Timmy now has full liberty of having boys in his room because there is no one to scold him about it now. And there is only one boy he wants in his room. This boy, however, always finds an excuse not to spend the night. Timmy understands. He himself is not sure that they are close enough yet to sleep in the same bed, let alone go all the way. But Timmy feels a pang of sadness every time Armie leaves. Armie’s mom goes on tours and he has told Timmy before that he used to take girls to his place. But Armie has only invited him over twice so far and it was all planned very meticulously. Both times, Timmy found the house totally empty. Not even his younger brother was home. It is as though he is ashamed of him or something. Or perhaps he is ashamed of being himself. Timmy understands that as well, because of an incident at school one day. A group of younger boys was giving him strange looks one day at school. One of them seemed oddly familiar for some reason, Timmy couldn’t place it. It seemed as though they were passing comments among each other and laughing. Armie found him and whispering a small, ‘come on, let’s go somewhere else’, he dragged Timmy out of that place but not before throwing a look back at the group. Then it clicked. “That’s your brother, isn’t it?” Timmy asked. Armie’s silence was confirmation enough. Viktor, two years younger, is ashamed of being his brother, and apparently has forbidden everyone from calling him by his last name. They must have had a discussion at home. Armie was desperate to make his brother seem nonthreatening and not homophobic. “It’s not because of you or cause I’m into guys too,” he said. “It’s because of that… misunderstanding, that thing with Lawton and…”

So he understands when a few moments later Armie comes up with another excuse.

Armie: Sorry :( New Year is kinda big. Mom won’t let me. Raincheck?

He took a raincheck on Christmas as well. Timmy was invited to spend the week with the Elgort’s. But he wanted to see Armie on the day, go to central park perhaps, see the lightings and the trees, get hot chocolate and walk around for a while in the snow, find mistletoe. But his boy wasn’t ready for that.

Timmy sighs.

Timmy <3: It’s okay :)

**January**

Armie doesn’t even show up to Ansel’s New Year’s party the next day. And when Timmy calls him he says his mom has dragged him to her sister’s place for dinner.

“But you can swing by later, right? For a little while?” Timmy asks over the phone.

“I’ll try to.”

_I miss you,_ Timmy almost says; they haven’t seen each other the whole of winter break. But it doesn’t seem right. They aren’t like that. Maybe he’ll say it when Armie gets here.

But he never does show up.

Timmy wants to text him. He doesn’t want to seem clingy.

He sits in a corner with a beer bottle in hand.

…

It’s at school that they meet again at last. Armie is there sitting on the steps, waiting for him with Nick as Timmy gets out of Ansel’s car. Timmy wanted to be mad at him. But then he thought some more. There really was nothing to be mad about. He just missed him too much, that’s nothing to hold against Armie. And Armie is smiling softly at him, pretending to listen to Nick’s blabbering, who, upon seeing Timmy, stops talking, saying, “ah, whatever, you aren’t listening anyway.”

“No, no, I am, I am…” Armie tries but he stands and gestures awkwardly at Timmy. “I just… hey,” he waves at the boy.

Timmy doesn’t stop himself, now that Armie is in front of him, he _can’t_ stop himself. Standing on tiptoes, he wraps his arms around his shoulders and hugs him tight. Kisses his cheek before letting go. Armie huffs out an embarrassed laugh and scratches the back of his head, asks how his break was even though they’ve been texting all throughout.

Timmy watches him practice with Florence and Saoirse almost every day under the guise of waiting for Ansel for a ride home. His friends often ditch him as they find staring at their male peers playing “dump American football” quite boring. Timmy just tentatively waves at him whenever Armie looks and smiles at him from the field. And from behind him, Ansel makes all sorts of obscene gestures when the coach is not there or not looking, which then Nick tries to stop by giving him a wet willy.

Most days after practice, while the others go to clean up and change, Timmy and Armie end up under the bleachers, out of everybody’s sight. Armie returns home in his sweaty clothes, smelling of perspiration and a hint of Timmy’s perfume, but smiling.

Then comes February.

**February**

“Hey, you doing okay?” Ansel peers into his room.

Timmy frowns. “Yeah? Why you being nice?”

“Because I _am _nice.”

“No, you’re not. You’re always a dick to me.”

“Not always. Who was there for you when that Sigmund dumped you?”

“Um, my friends.”

“Yes. So, me.”

“No. Saoirse and Flo. And hold on, what Simon got to do with anything?”

“You know, I thought I’d offer you a shoulder to cry on. If you wanna bitch about that loser Hammer and stuff. I told you he wasn’t gay. Wait, no, not literally. Don’t cry on my shoulder–“

“Wait, stop. Why’d I cry ab– You think we broke up?”

Ansel frowns at him. Timmy watches as his eyes torturously slowly go slightly round. “Shit… you didn’t? He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?”

Timmy’s heart sinks into the pit in his stomach. Armie has asked Elizabeth Chambers to prom.

He almost doesn’t believe it at first. Armie has never even mentioned this girl’s name to him. Ansel is a dickhead, but he wouldn’t go this far to pull a prank on him. Besides, he looked genuinely shocked right now.

But Armie has said he liked him, he said Timmy was beautiful. They are boyfriends, right? Right?

No. Armie has never said that he’s his boyfriend. Perhaps this was just about making out under the bleachers. Just casual until he got a real girlfriend. Timmy was nothing but a way to experiment after all.

He has never felt this humiliated or embarrassed in his life. He wants Pauline, he wants his mom. Why are they in fucking France? Why did he refuse to go with them? He wouldn’t have to see this day if he had just listened to his mom. His eyes sting and he wants Ansel to leave before he breaks down. But he can’t speak. If he opens his mouth, his voice will break and Ansel would know. He stands up and marches to the door, and before the corners of his lips start to quiver, he shoves Ansel out of his room and locks the door. He digs out his inhaler that he hasn’t used in nearly seven years as he feels a rock growing larger and larger in his chest.


	13. “piece of shit” and a glare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus if anyone was following. I finished writing the fic but I feel like it would do nothing but bore people. So I wasn't sure if I should post the next bit or end the fic with chapter 14. I'm still not sure tbh but let's see, I might wake up decisive tomorrow for once.

Timmy is fine. He really is. As he keeps assuring his friends. It was all pretty stupid, really. He thought the captain of the football team was his boyfriend just because he gave him a sloppy blowjob. LOL.

Armie is there on Monday, as per their routine, waiting by the stairs with Nick. Only Timmy can tell by the glance he steals that the boy knows. Good then, no need to have a discussion.

With the uncomfortable feeling of his guts being sucked into the pit in his stomach, he gets out of the car as quickly as he can and makes to simply walk past Nick and Armie and into the building. He hears Armie calling him as he passes by but he does so softly. He doesn’t want to create a scene. Good, they’re both on the same page. Or he still doesn’t want anyone to know that they know each other. Which is fine, too.

Timmy tries for a second to ignore him. But then Armie starts to follow him into the hallway and calls him again. Fearing anyone might sense the tension, Timmy stops and turns around abruptly, making Armie skid on the tiled floor. He plastered a smile on his face. “Yes, Armie.”

Armie opens his mouth, ready to apologize, but then shuts it again, confused. His brows furrow. “You’re not… mad… I– Can we talk? Somewhere private?”

“I have class now.”

“Later then? You’re free third period, right?”

“I need to work on my statistics assignment.”

“When do you–“

“Look, Armie, you don’t have to do this. We don’t have anything to talk about, really. We’re cool.” He smiles again, nods, and patting his shoulder, goes to his classroom, leaving Armie standing in the middle of the hallway, stunned.

* * *

Nick finds a seat beside him in chemistry. “Oh, Jesus…” Timmy mutters under his breath and, gathering his stuff, makes to stand up to find another seat.

“Look, Timmy, I’m not–“ Nick starts.

“Nick, please, stop.” Timmy scoffs. “What are you? His Jiminy Cricket?”

Nick frowns. “I don’t… What?”

“Yeah, I guess you weren’t there when he decided to become straight again.”

“I was at my sister’s recital– No, wait, Timmy,” Nick hurries when Timmy starts to get up again. “That wasn’t him, he would never do something like that on his own. He’s an idiot but I know the guy, he wouldn’t–”

“–Not my problem anymore,” he says without turning back.

“He feels awful. He would never intentionally hurt you, Timmy, just…”

He is at the other corner of the classroom before Nick can even finish.

* * *

Armie receives a muttered “piece of shit” and a glare from Florence. And Timmy tries not to cross either Armie’s or Nick’s path the whole week. Only once Armie catches him but only because Timmy is tired of being cautious all the time and play hide and seek.

“Did you get my text?” says Armie.

To be honest, Timmy, half-asleep, read ‘Dear Timmy, I’m can’t tell you how sorry–‘ and then he deleted the text before blocking the number.

Armie opens his mouth again and Timmy says through a smile, “I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on talking when there’s really nothing to talk about. You don’t have to justify your actions to me. You’re free to do whatever you want. I just don’t know why you felt the need to pretend all this time.” It was pity, perhaps. Perhaps, it was an experiment. Timmy knows. But to be honest, it really is okay. He still feels insulted but after the anger subsided, it really doesn’t feel like much of a deal. It was casual. They were exclusive. It just wasn’t serious enough that Armie would feel the need to let him know that it was over. And that’s okay. He smiles genuinely this time. “I think we’re both tired of this. Please, stop now,” he says as kindly as he can manage.

Armie is doing that again. Glancing at him with puppy-dog eyes whenever they cross paths, not daring to approach him again after he has directly asked him to stop. Timmy offers him a tight-lipped smile. That’s all he can do.

* * *

And then comes Valentine’s Day and the tackiest romantic gesture in the book is waiting for Timmy in his locker. A single rose.

He takes it out, looks at it for a second as his heart cries for the poor flower, notices a group of giggly girls looking at him, dumps the flower into the bin right beside the locker, doesn’t even check if a certain someone is watching, and immediately changes his combination.


	14. get up, you idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pick up right after the prologue/chapter 1  
And this is the end of part one. Chapter 15 will be the start of part two. Things are gonna get a bit heavy.

“I better go or I'll turn into an icicle. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. It’s okay. I just wanted to make the most of the time we have left before we leave for college. You are special and you matter to me. And I didn't wanna give up on this. But I made a mess of everything. Goodnight, Timmy.”

“Hey, idiot. Come up.”

“No, it's fine, I can go home.”

“It wasn't a request.”

“I’ll have to text my mom.”

Timmy takes the third rose from him and shuts him up with a kiss.

* * *

“I don’t know why I did it… Wait, no I do but it’s…” Armie trails off, thinking, watching Timmy who is perched on the windowsill and puffing out smoke, letting it out through the small window. Timmy looks up at him, cigarette hanging between his slightly parted lips, patient, giving him all the time he may need. Armie stares at his pulp lips, the ember between them.

“Do you want a drag?” asks Timmy.

Gathering his words, he shakes his head. “They were all talking about who they were gonnna ask and they were teasing me about how I could have taken the head cheerleader if only I hadn’t turned homo all of a sudden, and like how I’m gonna miss out on a whole experience and all that shit. And my brother is gonna be there too. I don’t even care about prom but I… I always have this fear of missing out and I… I wanted to show them that I can still take the hottest girl to prom if I want to, which is… so fucking petty. I don’t want you to think that I’m saying all this because I want to justify my actions.”

“Are they making fun of you?”

“No, they’re my friends, they were just joking, but they make these comments sometimes... It drives me up the wall and I don’t know why I feel like I have to prove myself.”

“Armie, you… you look like a tough guy and you’re the captain and all that but you… you can’t let people just talk to you or treat you like that. You have to tell them off if their words hurt or offend you. You have to let them know that the way they’re talking to you, the way they’re sizing up the cheerleaders like they’re some prize to win, tell them that’s not okay, that it’s not funny. Tell them you didn’t just _turn_ gay, that you like whatever you like and that’s none of their business, and they can’t just joke about that. That boys can take other boys to prom and have an equally fun time. Own who you are and tell them off. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. They know who you are and what you’re capable of. _I_ know who you are.”

Armie smiles at him, remembering how Timmy just told him angrily ‘fuck you, you don’t know me’. He takes the cigarette butt from him and drops it in the empty paper cup. “I want you to be my number one, Tim. I want to allow myself to rely on you, if you… I’ve never felt this close to anyone before and I thought it was ridiculous with you being a guy, like y’know, I wanted to see you like I see Nick, like a buddy but I couldn’t and thinking that you’re gonna leave and go to France because your family is already there and you miss them, it scared me to get close to you. I didn’t want to get hurt. And I was so confused before you shut me out and I realized… I want this. I can handle being hurt, I can handle my family and friends being assholes, but I can’t miss out on _this_. I want this more than anything. And I don’t see you as Nick or any of those assholes. You’re… I… You’re something else entirely. I want us to be close.”

“I want that too. And I want you to feel safe enough to feel anything you want. Don’t close yourself off. And whenever you feel confused about what you’re feeling or what you’re supposed to do now, I want you to trust me enough to come to me at once without hesitation.”

Armie gets on his knees, grinning. “Timothée Hal Chalamet, will you be my boyfriend?”

“How the fuck do you know my middle name?” Timmy snorts and slaps his shoulder. “Get up, you idiot.” Armie does as Timmy takes his hands in his. “Look… I need you to promise me something. Promise me that you will talk to me. About anything. Anything that confuses you, anything you are not okay with. Just _anything_, okay? Just… all you have to do is let me in. I don’t want to think about how long we have, but I don’t want to get hurt anymore either.”

“I won’t…” Armie cups his cheek with his palm and looks into his eyes. “I can’t promise you that I won’t hurt you anymore. And I’m so fucking sorry for the times that I have, but it was never my intention. I know I’ll probably fuck up again someday because I am not a very good person, to be honest. But I want to see this as a new start and I don’t want to start it with a promise that I might not be able to keep. All I can say is that I’ll try my absolute best to not hurt you again because I feel awful seeing you getting hurt. I can barely stand it.”

“The promise,” Timmy urges.

“Yes, I promise. I promise I will talk to you every time I feel like asking a girl to prom.”

Timmy punches him in the stomach weakly, which makes both of them laugh and start to mock wrestle.

Armie slowly guides them towards the bed so they don’t fall on the floor and get hurt, but he loses balance and ends up dropping Timmy on the bed and falling on top of him. It knocks the wind out of Timmy who gives out a squeak.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” says Armie trying to catch his own breath and get off of Timmy.

“No, it’s…” Timmy shakes his head, trying and failing to control his laughter. “You’re a fucking ogre.”

“You… You’re a stick,” says Armie lamely and starts to tickle him with all his might in retaliation.

Timmy almost wheezes out his lungs before, after several attempts, he is finally able to stop Armie and they both lie side by side, facing each other, catching their breath, and their grins slowly turn into soft smiles.

“I just…” Armie says. “I guess I didn’t know who to trust. I didn’t even know if I could trust my own judgment. This is all very new to me. But I feel like you’re the sanest person in my life right now. So I guess I’ll put my trust in you. I promise.”

“Say it then.”

“Say what?”

“Admit to the things you’re lying to yourself about. About your family.”

“Timmy…”

“Armie, I’m sure your mom loves you more than anything but she is homophobic.”

Armie’s jaw tightens and he fixes his gaze at Timmy. For a second Timmy thinks he is going to get angry and scold him. But then he opens his mouth and, “My mom is homophobic. She loves me but she hates who I am. She keeps telling herself and me that I am under your influence and that I would like anything now because I’m a teenager and horny and confused and that it’s gonna ruin my life and then I’ll be an adult with this reputation and I wouldn’t even be gay anymore. And my brother… I don’t know. We were really close growing up but drifted apart and I don’t even know who he is anymore. He’s so ashamed of me. He won’t even talk to me or look at me. He just yelled during dinner saying that I’ve ruined his life. Told my mom to send me to a correctional facility. He wants to change school. And he used to be, y’know, the ‘woke’ one. This fucking selective liberalism… like he’s woke as long as this woke things are not happening too close to him. And my dad, well…” he scoffs. “Pretty sure he’s having an affair and my mom knows about it. He’s not home a lot and doesn’t really care what’s going on here. But he tries to keep Viktor and me happy by letting us do the stuff mom wouldn’t. Just materialistic shits.”

By the time Armie stops, his eyes are glistening that Timmy stares at with his own mouth open. “Why didn’t you tell me…?” says Timmy.

“To be honest, I… _I’m _ashamed of my family. And you have these perfect parents and perfect family and friends, and you know who you are and you’re perfect at school. And I even started believing the shit my mom keeps telling– you’re supposed to trust your parents, right? They’re supposed to guide you, they’re supposed to tell you what’s right and wrong and teach you–“

Timmy pulls him into his arms. Armie collapses against him as Timmy caresses his neck, the back of his head, his hair, rubs his lips against his temple softly, and keeps whispering that it’s okay.

Armie is quiet as he clings to Timmy, clutches his shirt. And Timmy feels a hot wet spot on his collar.

“I’m so sorry,” says Timmy after a while.

“Why are you sorry?” His voice heavy.

“That you’ve been bullied not only by your friends but your family. And I wasn’t open enough for you to feel safe to talk to me about all this.”

Armie gulps down the bile in his mouth. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” He brings his mouth to Timmy’s, eyes closed, and kisses him without lust. His full lips, a little wet with salty water, almost swallowing Timmy’s supple ones. Timmy breathes out audibly against his skin as a shiver runs down his spine, closing his eyes and leaning his whole weight against the taller boy, feeling lazy, just giving in, with his hands clutching onto his shirt. He trusts Armie as well, he wants to tell him that. But right now, he just wants to be kissed. Soft purr-like noises escape his throat as Armie allows his tongue to roam around Timmy’s eager, open mouth.

Armie finds Timmy’s long neck, tongues the bump of his Adam’s apple. But his exploration is hindered by fabric. Armie tugs at it. Timmy does more. He sits up and pulls off the shirt. Then he is still, looking at his boyfriend, hesitant and a little cold. Slowly, he reaches for his own belt buckle, and getting off the bed, takes his trousers off, lets them gather around his feet. His boxers join them next.

He stands before him, stark naked.

Timmy has never allowed anyone this. Yes, Armie has given him a blowjob before, but he has never seen him like this. And Timmy has never felt more vulnerable and naked. He knows he is skinny, he knows he has a tiny pouch like a half donut under his belly button, he knows his ribs are visible, that he really doesn’t have an ass, that he has an average size member. He also knows that Armie has a six-pack and luscious buttocks, that he probably looks like Achilles reincarnated when he’s naked, that he himself looks like a mop in comparison.

His cheeks are burning but he holds his stance and Armie’s gaze. If Armie sticks around after this, Timmy will know. But that thought is at the back of his head right now. Right now, he just simply wants to give him this. He wants to show his everything to Armie, to tell him ‘here, this is who I am, I stand before you, exposed; unriddle me, I want to be found by you and you can keep what you find.’

Armie is kind in return. Recovering from the initial shock and wonderment, slowly, but with assured hands, he gets off the bed and takes his own clothes off, never taking his eyes off Timmy and standing before him as though to say, ‘it’s okay, take me.’

But neither of them says anything. They simply look at each other and start to explore with every inch of their bodies, with their hands, mouths, tongue,s and teeth. In their love fused frenzy, they whisper how beautiful they are, how right this is, and _Armie_, and _Timmy -_ swapping words and whines as they tumble carelessly off one’s mouth and flows into the other’s.


	15. permanent or not

**Two months later**

“Okay, we get it!” from across the room, a jock shouted (not unkindly), whose name Timmy doesn’t know, nor does he care to at the moment. “Now, get your head back in the game, Hammer.”

Armie smiles against Timmy’s lips who pushes against his chest.

“Another? For luck. Please, baby, please, baby, baby, baby, please,” says Armie, imitating Spike Lee.

Shaking his head, Timmy yields and wraps his arms around his neck again.

It is a big day today. A university coach is among the audience for the game. But neither Armie nor Timmy is worried because they both – as well as the whole school – know that he will be undoubtedly the best on that field. This will secure his place at the university (even though Armie is still waiting to hear back from Columbia but that is a chimera, Armie thinks). Julliard (for which Timmy’s fingers are crossed) is close enough to allow Timmy and Armie to see each other almost every week. So, Timmy just wanted to wish his boyfriend good luck before the big game, which turned into a mini make-out session in a corner of the locker room, away from the others because they were so happy. Everything is going to be perfect. “I’m getting into that fucking college, baby,” Armie whispers against his lips and places one last kiss on his lips. “Can you imagine? Having my own place so we can hang out whenever–”

“You know,” comes Ansel’s voice, addressing Timmy, casually walking into the locker room. “Just because, you’re a guy that doesn’t mean you’re allowed in here. Also, it’s unfair on us.”

“Fuck you, I’m the captain,” says Armie, smirking.

“Your Highness,” Ansel bows dramatically, “I do hope Coach doesn’t catch your beloved.”

They turn around to see their coach walking into the room for their briefing. And his gaze lands on the only person who is not in a jersey. “Chalamet. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, sir. I was just… I’m gonna go.” He starts to walk off before Armie holds him by his bicep to whisper in his ear.

“Wait for me in the parking lot after.”

A smile appears on his face.

* * *

Timmy doesn’t get to wait for him after the game. He is dragged to and shoved into Ansel’s car that chases the ambulance. The ambulance carrying Armie's lifeless body.

Timmy doesn’t see anything. He can’t hear anything except for the wail of the ambulance as the scene plays over and over in his head. Armie’s huge figure, made even bigger by the shoulder pads, skidding across the field, yelling directions, destroying the opposite team. Jersey no. 6 of the opposite team putting his leg up at the same time as jersey 37 shoving Armie, resulting in Armie colliding with 6’s knee. Armie falling on the ground without any protest, lifeless, like a rag doll.

Timmy remembers praying that he was mistaken, that he had been following the wrong person on the field and it wasn’t Armie who lay on the ground now, that Armie was still on the field somewhere, trying to get to his injured teammate as fast as he could. But Timmy has watched him play a thousand times; he could never not recognize his no. 23.

Before he could gather himself and run down to him, Armie was being carried off the field. Timmy had yelled something at them that he can’t remember now, perhaps for them to wait, but who would listen to a sniveling, crazy-looking kid?

He just wanted to know if he was alive. Ansel found him trying to get information from the paramedic. They looked pretty annoyed with him. But, yes, Armie was alive but unconscious. He asked if he could go along but only so many people could fit in that stuffed ambulance and Mrs. Hammer and Viktor were already in there. Ansel and Nick pulled Timmy out of there and got him into Ansel’s car.

* * *

“Maybe you should go home and rest,” says Mrs. Hammer, trying to be civil. “You must be tired.”

“No, I’m fine.” Timmy offered her a tight smile. Timmy keeps staring at the serene look on Armie’s face. Still unconscious but out of danger. Well… at least he is not dead. Timmy is thankful for that. He has just been transferred to a private room after 3 hours of surgery and Timmy isn’t sure how long he and Mrs. Hammer have been staring at his still form for. The doctors couldn’t tell when he will be conscious but confirms that he is not in a coma. But there was one thing they were sure of: permanent or not, definitely partial paralysis.

“Won’t your parents worry?”

“They live in France.” He looks at her. Her eyes don’t leave her unconscious son. He knows it can be tough - not to mention weird – to sit, in this trying time, across from his son’s boyfriend whom she doesn’t approve of. “Mrs. Hammer… I’m sorry.”

She does not reply. It’s awkward, but leaving now is not an option for Timmy. He knows Armie will be okay without him, there is nothing he can do to help him. Armie will look for his mom first when he wakes up, Timmy is sure. But he feels the need to be here nonetheless. He needs to see those ocean eyes again. He needs to make sure Armie is all right or he won’t be able to rest. And maybe, just maybe, his presence will put a smile on Armie’s face.

And it does. When Armie opens his eyes another hour later, his gaze falls on Timmy sitting on a stiff chair by the bed. He smiles, his pale lips stretched over his face, a little dazed. “Tim… hey,” he says softly.

Warmth spreads in Timmy’s chest. “Hi, babe. Hey…” He smiles and gets up from his chair and tentatively sits on the bed. He touches his arm soothingly but carefully so as not to hurt him. “Your mom’s here, too.”

Armie looks at his mother. His smile then slowly retraces. “Mom…” he looks down at Timmy’s hand caressing his arm. “Mom, I can’t feel- I can’t move, I can’t move, mom,” he stutters, his voice just above a whisper.

Timmy sees moisture gathering in Armie’s big eyes, his breathing labored. “Wha… what’s going on?” says Timmy.

“Honey, it’s alright,” Mrs. Hammer shushes her son, caressing his hair before pushing buttons the functions of which Timmy doesn’t know. “Just calm down, okay? Everything is fine.”

Armie’s eyes go round and the tears spill out as he struggles to breathe normally. He clenches his teeth and tries to move. “I can’t… I can’t move, mom. Mom, please –“

“Why is he –“ Timmy starts, hovering his hands near Armie, afraid to touch, not knowing what to do or what is happening.

“Please!” scolds Mrs. Hammer.

With his palms over his mouth, Timmy slowly walks backwards and away from the bed as his eyes start to sting. Armie is lying there, having a panic attack, as his mother fusses over him to calm him down. Timmy has seen him cry before but now he wails, feeling trapped and helpless.

The nurse that gets into the room asks them to vacate the room.

Timmy leaves the room and slumps down on the bench beside Nick. Burying his face in his palms, he lets out the sobs that were trapped in his chest, making it heavy. Nick sighs, still sweaty and in his jersey, and pats Timmy on the back. Timmy rubs his nose and cheek before scrambling for the inhaler in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry


	16. that's what I was gonna say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I understand that I've ruined the fic but I did say it was gonna be bad.  
I needed Armie to mature, or the story wouldn't go anywhere, he would keep fucking up and Timmy would lose patience with him one of these days and they would end up breaking up. So I found a way to put things into perspective. And I know this paralysis thing might seem cliche or something but, personally, I don't mind cliches as long as they make the story work.  
So apologies to those who are disappointed by the new development. Just pretend chapter 14 was the end of the fic ♥️

“Mom... some privacy?”

Armie sighs.

He has been released from the hospital. There was nothing much they could do now. But at least he can fully feel and move his abdomen. His legs however…

His wheelchair stands collapsed against the wall of his bedroom. The nurse who is to take care of him (_temporarily_ \- Armie made it very clear – until he gets accustomed to this new lifestyle) helps him sit up on the bed as Mrs. Hammer opens the door to let Timmy in. Seeing Timmy, the nurse leaves the room telling Armie that he will be in the living room. But his mom has no intention of leaving. Hesitantly, Timmy sits at the far end of the bed, facing Armie as Mrs. Hammer starts tidying up the room as though it is the most important thing to do right now. Timmy awkwardly smiles at him.

“Mom,” Armie calls again.

Mrs. Hammer looks at him.

“Shut the door behind you, please.”

Mrs. Hammer sighs and finally leaves the room, but doesn’t shut the door.

"She didn't do that when Nick came," says Armie, smiling at Timmy.

Timmy has a smile plastered on his face.

He visited him whenever he could when Armie was still at the hospital, bringing him flowers. Mrs. Hammer was not very pleased with that either and wouldn’t let him stay for long. Between that, checkups, and physical therapy, the small amount of time that they did get to spend with each other were spent under her supervision, so they couldn’t really talk about anything except what’s going on at school and trivial things. They texted a lot though. Timmy always asking him if he can sleep now, if the nightmares have stopped, if the meds helped, if he has eaten enough until Armie got annoyed. _‘I don’t need two moms, Timmy, thank you,’_ he’d texted him. And Timmy stopped.

The kid whose knee hit Armie and the one who shoved him came to visit him as well, apologizing. ‘I don’t blame you guys.’ Armie told them and smiled. But of course, a part of him will always blame them. He can’t fucking walk. But to make those boys live with that guilt would be awful. They didn’t mean for it to happen.

But Timmy was amazed by his response. He is not sure he himself would have been so level headed if he were in Armie's position.

He wanted to visit him with Nick the day before yesterday but he didn't want to test Mrs. Hammer's patience. And with Armie's dad back in the picture, he really didn't want them to ban him from visiting altogether. So this is the first time he is seeing Armie in days. The first time they are left alone after the accident. And there is only silence.

After a while, Timmy scrunches up his nose. The polite smile standing as a transparent wall between them. Says, “you know, it doesn’t alter anything.”

“Why, all of a sudden…”

“Because this silence between us is on the verge of being awkward.” He chuckles, tries it make light of it. “I just… it doesn’t change anything between us. That's all.”

“Then why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable... or crowd you.”

“So it alters things, Timmy. I can’t walk,” Armie spits with a grounded voice and turns his face to the window. When he hears Timmy talk moments later, his voice sounds heavy but he is smiling through it.

“Do you want me to come back later? You seem… you’re angry.”

“Just because we were dating before… doesn’t mean we have to continue. Everything has changed. You didn’t choose to be with me like this, didn’t sign up for this. And it’s like the sweet person that you are, you’d… You don’t have to feel obliged to stay. And if you’re holding onto the hope that my legs will miraculously get better… You should give up on that now. It’s better this way… before it turns ugly,” he says calmly. He didn’t think he had it in him to say all this right to Timmy's face. Not that he was planning on it. But it had to be done at some point. So when he looks back at Timmy, for a second Armie thinks he is sulking. That is until he notices his reddened eyes. Timmy doesn’t speak. He keeps looking at him with spite in his eyes. “What?” Armie says.

“You wanna dump me?”

_“That’s _what you got out of all that?”

“Yes. ‘Cause all the rubbish you just spewed makes no fucking sense to me. So I am looking for an ulterior motive there.” Timmy looks away to rub at his eyes. "Still a fucking idiot,” he says under his breath. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Break-ups happen, Timmy. It’s not a big deal. There’s no need to be so dramatic.”

“Stop talking!” he half-yells. “Are you intentionally being an asshole? And you have the guts to call _me _dramatic when you’re the one putting up an act?”

“This is not a soap opera, Timmy, and I am not trying to be an asshole so it’s easier for you to leave me. I don’t have any ulterior motive. I just laid it all on the line, now you decide. I just want to give you the freedom to decide. I just want you to know that I understand completely if you want to break up. So you don’t feel guilty._ I_ wouldn’t want to keep dating someone like me. Perhaps that’s why I got this fucking –“ he strikes his leg with frustration.

They are both stunned and silent for a moment.

Tentatively, Timmy gets up to sit closer to him and cups his cheek, making him look up. Up close, now Armie can finally see his face as he likes to.

“So you’re one of those gross criers,” Armie chuckles sadly, taking a tissue paper from his bedside table and, pinching Timmy’s nose, wiping the snot.

Timmy snorts and rests his head against Armie’s shoulder. “What are we doing…?”

Armie rakes his fingers through Timmy’s curls. Something he has missed doing so damn much. “What needs to be done.”

“No. No, Armie, you’re wrong. This was unnecessary.”

“Not for me.”

“Was this some kind of a test?”

Armie laughs. “No, stupid.”

Timmy raises his head and places a swift kiss on his lips. It doesn’t seem foreign, even though so much has happened after the last time they had kissed. It seems as though he had kissed him for luck ages ago in that locker room. He thinks, remembering their last kiss, and then kisses him again. Languid and lingering this time. He smells of detergent, medicine, and bleach, like in a hospital. But Timmy loves it all the same. “I don’t give a shit if you’re in a wheelchair or if you’re blind or mute or a fucking radiofrequency. If you know me–“

“I do. I love you. That’s what I wanted to say.” With one hand, Armie plays with his curls as his other hand soothingly caresses Timmy's arm. “Remember I told you to wait for me after the game.” Armie smiles as Timmy nods and bumps his nose against his. “That’s what I was gonna tell you. And then take you somewhere to eat and then we’d find a good hotel with the money that I got. I’d even lied to my mom already, saying we were gonna celebrate at Nick’s place and spend the night there.”

“What money?”

“My dad paid me in advance to celebrate the win ‘cause everybody knew who was gonna win. But also because he felt guilty cause he couldn’t make it to the game.”

“What would we do in a hotel?”

“I’d finally let you touch my butt without fucking Ansel there to eavesdrop.”

Timmy snorts and rubs his face against Armie’s shoulder.

“Do you love me back?”

“You fucking idiot.”


End file.
